


The Most Noble

by suckerfordeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BETWEEN ALASTAIR AND DEAN, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Concubine Dean, Dean beats Alastair up later, Falling In Love, Gentle Castiel, Getting to Know Each Other, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kind of Historical AU, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, No mpreg, Omega Dean, Oral Sex, Prince Castiel, Scent Marking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, True Mates, but only once don't worry, the tags will contain spoilers from here on.... so beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/pseuds/suckerfordeansfreckles
Summary: He’s still not entirely sure how he ended up here, naked and with spread legs, on expensive cushions, in the king’s castle. He remembers waking up to loud voices only a few hours ago, and then two armed guards barged into his room, dragged him out of his bed and towards their horses.He remembers his father’s neutral face as he held Dean’s screaming brother Sammy back from running after the guards, not even meeting Dean’s eyes as the men tied his hands behind his back, heaved him onto a horse’s back, and took him with them without any explanation whatsoever.Now he's here, and he has no idea what will happen to him.





	1. Frightened

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this story has been a wild ride... that took over 5 months.  
> The title was inspired by [this poem](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=14296).
> 
> JUST TO REPEAT; A CONTENT WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS BRIEF NON-CON ELEMENTS AND ATTEMPTED RAPE BETWEEN ALASTAIR AND DEAN. Dean also assumes Cas will rape him, which will NOT happen. Nothing that happens between Dean and Cas is non-con.
> 
> The biggest possible thank-you's go out to [Jules aka sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish), who is the sole reason I even started writing this story, to [jemariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel/pseuds/jemariel) and [adaille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaille/pseuds/adaille) and [wingsandimpalas](https://wingsandimpalas.tumblr.com/), who are the reasons this story has more than? 1? chapter. I adore you guys, thank you for everything!

Dean feels like his arms may give in any second now, and he’s gonna crash face first into the thick mattress beneath him. He’s been on his hands and knees for what feels like hours, and he‘s been trembling ever since he got into position on the linen sheets. 

 

He hasn’t been told much about what’s going to happen to him, but it’s not hard to guess. When the guards finally released his arms and shoved him into a random room in the huge castle, there was a red-headed beta waiting for him next to a wooden bathtub. She didn’t even bother to look at him while she told him to get out of his clothes and wash up thoroughly in the lukewarm, lavender-scented water. As soon as he was done and handed a short robe to put on, the guards were back and brought him to another room down the hall. They left him with nothing but a cold: “Get naked and present for your royals.” 

 

Dean left his robe in a small pile on the floor next to the door and knelt down on the bed just as he was told to do, heart frantically beating in his chest.

 

He lets his eyes wander around the room again — or as much of it as he can see from his position — to take his mind off of what will probably be done to him soon. There’s a window, but the curtains are drawn together almost all the way, only a sliver of light showing through. Dean watches some dust flakes dance in the beam of light for a few seconds, and tries to battle this growing feeling of being utterly lost. Except for the big bed he’s kneeling on, the room is empty. The bed, though, single handedly shows how rich the inhabitants of this castle are. With its thick mattress and fine linen sheets, a few cushions and blankets draped over it, Dean can tell how expensive it is just by looking at it.

 

He’s still not entirely sure how he ended up here, naked and with spread legs, on expensive cushions, in the king’s castle. He remembers waking up to loud voices only a few hours ago, and then two armed guards barged into his room, dragged him out of his bed and towards their horses. He remembers his father’s neutral face as he held Dean’s screaming brother Sammy back from running after the guards, not even meeting Dean’s eyes as the men tied his hands behind his back, heaved him onto a horse’s back, and took him with them without any explanation whatsoever. 

 

Dean isn’t surprised that his father didn’t try to help him — because, now that Dean thinks about it, he’s probably the reason any of this is happening at all. John Winchester has never been okay with Dean’s secondary gender, never bothered to try and hide his disgust over Dean presenting as an omega. But imagining that he actually handed his oldest son over to serve the king — as, what? a concubine? — without batting an eye? Dean has never loathed him more than he does right now.

 

He feels absolutely horrible, waiting for any member of the royal family to come into this gloomy room and just fuck him like the weak, helpless omega he is. Presenting his ass as if he wants this, as if he’s eager for it — when in reality, he never,  _ ever _ , wanted a life like this. He knew life would be difficult as soon as he presented omega a few years ago. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined ending up in the castle of King Zachariah, as a simple omega concubine for everyone to have. He feels disgusting already, and nobody has even laid a hand on him yet.   
  
The door creaks behind him, and Dean can actually feel his heart sink down into his stomach. His fingers tremble against the sheets as he holds his breath and listens closely to what’s going on behind him. There’s some whispering outside of the room, and one of the people talking sounds angry. Fucking awesome, one of the royals apparently decided to use Dean as an outlet for their anger, right on his very first day here. He hears a hissed “Leave, now!” and then the door creaks open and falls shut again in a matter of seconds.

 

Dean’s throat closes up, he can’t breathe — and he doesn’t care. If he suffocated right here, right now, it would definitely be better than whatever the royals have coming for him. 

 

He can’t feel his fingers where they bury into the comforter, but now that he thinks about it, he can’t feel his feet, either. Or his arms. All he feels is disgust, rapidly spreading through every cell of his body. He has played with the thought of trying to run… but where would he go? And how would he pass the guards? How would he be punished for trying to flee? King Zachariah is the kind of person that would punish family members to hurt the people who actually wronged him; what if he hurt Sammy? Dean doesn’t deserve any of this — but neither does Sam.

 

So he doesn’t run, doesn’t fight, and he almost manages not to flinch when he feels fingers brushing up the back of his thigh.

 

“Oh, you truly are a pretty little bitch,” a nasal voice taunts, and then the stranger walks around the bed, slides his hand over Dean’s ass, up his back, to finally rest on the back of his neck. Dean can smell the heavy alpha arousal before he even has a chance to lift his head to take a look at the man. “And those lips. I get it, now,” the man sneers.

 

Dean feels cold, empty, looking into the eyes of the thin alpha above him. He shivers, his whole body shaking again, and the alpha only squeezes his neck in answer.

 

“I will make you mine, fuck you real good. Maybe you’ll even end up liking it.” 

 

He feels bile rise in his throat, is sure that if this alpha actually touches him beyond this, he  _ will  _ throw up. Maybe even pass out — and, wouldn’t that be nice?

 

Dean closes his eyes, waits for more, but all he hears is ragged breathing from the alpha staring down at him until there’s sound at the door again. 

 

The door is thrown open, crashes into the wall, and then there’s a growl that has goosebumps breaking out all over Dean’s body. Dean has never heard anything like this before, booming and feral and fucking furious. The alpha above him pulls his hand back immediately, but he still stays close. 

 

“Have I not been clear enough, Alastair? Did you not understand that I claimed him?” It’s the new person talking now, definitely a man, and most definitely alpha. He’s still growling, voice deep and rough. And he’s walking towards them, apparently, because Alastair finally backs off, until his back is pressed to the wall next to the bed.

 

He doesn’t answer, so the alpha speaks up again. “Did you not understand that he’s mine?” 

 

“I didn’t think you would take this so seriously, my prince.”

 

“You touched him, Alastair. If you ever do that again, don’t think for a second I would hesitate before ripping your throat out.” 

 

Alastair scrambles off the wall, and Dean twists to try and get a glimpse of this alpha, this man who apparently claimed him — whatever that means. Dean feels like he’s going to be sick all over again. 

 

The alpha is standing there, big and scary, watching with blazing red eyes as Alastair stumbles out of the room. He slams the door closed behind him and Dean wants to whimper, wants to scream, wants to run. He feels like this man will treat him even worse than Alastair, all rage and authority and demand.

 

He bites his lower lip, twists back around to get back into position and lets his head fall down to the mattress, once again waiting for an alpha to do with him as he pleases. He feels a tear slipping from his eye, and he bites harder, tries to get his mind to a different, nicer place. 

 

He feels another touch, a lighter one on his upper arm this time, and his vision goes blurry. His ears close up and, yeah, he’s going to pass out very soon. Thankfully. Finally.

 

He tries not to focus on anything, but then he feels some kind of fabric being pulled over his back, being wrapped around him. He isn’t sure what the hell is going on, but then he’s being pulled up from his position presenting on all fours — and the alpha looks at him through huge, worried blue eyes. 

 

Dean sits on the bed and he can see the man’s lips moving, but his ears still feel like they are filled with cotton and he doesn’t understand a word. When Dean doesn’t answer, doesn’t react, just stares, the man grabs his shoulders and pushes him down to the bed. 

 

He pulls the blanket around Dean even tighter and then he… gets up. He moves out of Dean’s space, and walks towards the window to pull the curtains apart and let some fresh air and sunlight in. He sits back down on the bed, but he leaves a lot of space between them.

 

While Dean watches him perched on the edge of the bed, he slowly manages to get his breathing back under control. The alpha is looking at him, but it’s nothing like Alastair’s gaze earlier, and it makes Dean feel like he is allowed to watch, too. 

 

It’s the first time he really  _ looks _ , and he takes in tousled dark hair, a sharp jawline covered in dark stubble, broad shoulders, fancy, clean clothes, and a worried, soft expression. Now that Alastair is gone and his scent is slowly fading from the room, Dean can finally concentrate on things like that, on what this new alpha is giving away about his feelings through his posture and his expression.

 

“Are you feeling a little better?” the alpha asks after a while, raspy and low, and he still doesn’t come near Dean, doesn’t touch him. He just looks, and his eyes don’t leave Dean’s face.

 

“I don’t know,” Dean says, and it takes two tries to get the words out of his throat. Breathing is easier now, and he can feel and move his limbs again. But the fear is still there, settled somewhere deep in his stomach, ready to claw its way back up any second.

 

“I’m going to get you some water, you need to drink something,” he says, voice gentle and careful.

 

He gets up to leave and Dean can’t suppress a whimper. “Please don’t leave me alone,” he whispers, clutching the sheets around him to his chest. Dean has no reason to trust this alpha, has no idea what his intentions are, but he knows that he will at least protect him from people like Alastair.

 

The man sits back down and just looks at Dean some more. “What’s your name?”

 

“Dean. Winchester — but I guess that’s not important anymore.”

 

“Hello, Dean Winchester,” he says, and smiles a small smile. “I’m Castiel, fifth son of Zachariah.”

 

“A prince, then?”

 

“Indeed.” He looks sullen when he says it, but the small frown that settles on his face with the word is gone a few seconds later. “One of six children. Do you have any siblings, Dean?”

 

“I — yes. A younger brother,” Dean answers, and it hurts just to think about him. Castiel seems to notice, because he shakes his head a little and gets up from the bed.

 

“Are you — Do you think you’re ready for me to show you your chambers? We should get you some water, too.”

 

He nods and gets up quickly, ready to follow the prince, but almost trips over the blanket he’s still wrapped in.

 

“Oh god, of course! You need some clothes, please give me a minute,” Cas stutters, and opens the door to push his head through the gap. From the rumble of his voice, Dean assumes he must be talking to a servant.

 

It doesn’t take long, five minutes at most, before he closes the door again and turns towards Dean with a bundle of clothes in his arms. 

 

“I asked Inias to bring us a few things from my closet — you can keep all of them if you want, but I thought you might want to choose what you like best,” he trails off, and then takes a few steps towards Dean and carefully puts the clothes down on the bed next to Dean. 

 

He immediately turns his back to Dean to give him some privacy to change, and throws his hands over his eyes for good measure, too. When he goes as far as to walk towards the wall by the door with his hands on his face and ends up bumping against it a little, Dean can’t help the small, genuine smile that slips on his lips at the panicked way Castiel tries so desperately to be respectful. 

 

Dean swallows it back down again when he has to drop the sheets around him to the floor and hurries to put on whatever he can grab first, which ends up being plain white underwear, a pair of long, brown trousers, a washed-out grey shirt and a black vest, just covering as much of his skin as quick as possible. He even hurries into his socks.

 

When he’s done, he hesitates a little before hastily folding the sheets and throwing them back to the bed, and then he grabs the remaining clothes Castiel gave him and takes a deep breath. “I think I’m ready,” he says, but quickly adds: “My prince.”

 

Castiel turns back around and sends him a careful smile before opening the door to the hallway.

 

Dean’s stomach churns at the mere idea of having to leave this room, of having to meet other people, but he cautiously follows the prince through the door nonetheless.

 

Dean trails after Castiel for ages. They pass doors and entries to other hallways and take turns, and Dean already knows that he’ll get lost in here at least once every other day in the foreseeable future. 

 

Eventually, they reach an old wooden door, and when Castiel stops in front of it, Dean almost bumps into him. He opens the door and gestures for Dean to enter, to take a look. It’s small, stuffed with three beds and a tiny closet, just one narrow window lightening the room. Castiel hesitates a little, but ends up explaining that Dean will have to share it with two other concubines. He doesn’t use that word, calls them  _ handmaids of the king _ , and while Dean appreciates the sentiment, he knows exactly what his position in this castle is. He knows what he, and the people he will be living with, will have to do every day.

 

There’s one unmade bed at the back of the room, and Dean walks towards it, eyes trailing over bumps in the wooden floor, scratches on the wall, the handful of personal belongings around and beneath the other two beds. He puts his new clothes down on top of his bed and lets his fingers stroke over the scratchy bedspread. How pleasant.

 

Castiel’s voice interrupts his gloomy thoughts: “The kitchen and dining hall for… for the staff, they are at the end of this hallway. I want to show you another room too, if that’s alright with you.”

 

Dean nods — because, what else can he do? Castiel leads him through another corridor until they end up in a room much like the one they met in, not more than half an hour ago. There’s a huge bed, but not much else in there.

 

“This will be our room, where we can spend time with each other and won’t be interrupted,” Castiel says, and Dean can’t help but feel cold and numb all over again. “When I send someone to get you, we will meet in here.”

 

He nods again, and turns away from Castiel when he feels hot tears welling up in his eyes. It’s his own fault, really, letting himself think for even a second that this alpha could be any different than Alastair. 

 

Castiel leads him back to his room, promises him that a servant will later bring him more clothes that will fit him better, and leaves him to explore the castle with a nod.


	2. Unsure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me whether or not this story will have a happy ending - and only then did I realize I forgot to tag this. YES. VERY HAPPY ENDING, DON'T WORRY! OUR BOYS WILL BE SO HAPPY!!!

For a lack of better things to do, Dean does as he’s been told and spends the rest of the day carefully wandering through the hallways, never moving too far from his room, always looking out for a thin figure, the stench of alpha, of Alastair. 

 

He finds a small bathroom next to his room, with a wooden tub, a basin and a toilet, finds the kitchen just three doors from his room. At the end of the corridor, there’s a small niche with a tiny window that has a pretty nice view over the garden, shows roses and flowerbeds and a well.

 

He walks by a lot of people, all of them busily running around, carrying things, not even taking notice of the new face.

 

When he gets back to his own room later, there are two people in there already. Dean’s first instinct is to back out and run, but then the two redheads must smell him, as they turn around to look at him with curious looks on their faces.

 

“Oh, hello! It’s so nice to meet you,” the smaller one of them, another omega, says with a little too much enthusiasm for Dean’s liking. “I’m Charlie, this is Anna,” she says, and points at the redhead by her side. 

 

Anna sends him a stoic nod, and that’s when Dean recognizes her as the beta who had first welcomed him in the castle, and he can’t really fight the instant dislike for her that claws its way up his throat. He doesn’t feel bad about it though, when he thinks about how easily she had ordered him around earlier. If she can treat an omega like an object, just send them off to get used by a random royal without showing any compassion, without even warning them, he has no reason to trust her.

 

Charlie, on the other hand, he likes immediately. While a little too bubbly, she is friendly and sweet and wraps him up in a welcoming hug without hesitation. It doesn’t take long for Dean to realize that most of her happiness is a mask, that her stomach is full of fear, too. But she treats him like a  _ person  _ right away, doesn‘t ask about his past or why he’s here or what happened to him today.

 

While Anna leaves them again after the awkward introduction, Charlie takes Dean’s hand without a word of explanation and pulls him with her through the castle until they are suddenly outside, in the fresh air, walking on lush green grass. Dean can’t believe it’s only been one day of being locked-in in the castle, can’t really grasp how happy he is to sink down between the rose bushes and just breathe. He feels safe here, tucked away between the plants with Charlie, for the first time today, for the first time in years. 

 

Charlie wraps him up in her optimism and chattering, tells him about the people in the castle she likes; tells him about the friendly cook Benny, raves and raves about a feisty maid called Jo and her mother Ellen, who also serves the king as a maid, and about a beta called Missouri who is in charge of the library and sneaks out books every now and then, to “borrow” to the servants that can read. 

 

Charlie doesn’t talk about what any of them have to suffer through every day, doesn’t talk about their pasts, and Dean appreciates that a lot. When it starts to get dark around them they get up, his hand somehow still in Charlie’s, and make their way back inside for dinner.

 

Everything looks a little better with Charlie at his side — the awful smell of sadness inside the dining hall, the small table they share with Anna and a few other omegas who don’t talk during their meals, even the potatoes and soggy carrots they get for dinner. Charlie smiles at him every now and then, elbows him when he frowns a little too hard at the food, whispers the names of the other people on their table into Dean’s ear between bites. She doesn’t leave his side all evening, and Dean thinks he never had a friend as great as her.

 

It’s only when they are back in their room, tucked beneath blankets that are just as scratchy as the bedspread, that Charlie whispers from the bed opposite his own: “I hope you’re okay, Dean. The first day is truly horrible,” that Dean can hear the sadness in her voice. His throat closes up a little, but it doesn’t seem like she needs an answer anyway. Dean lies awake for a long time before he finally falls into a restless sleep.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean wakes up early the next morning, and what he can see from the sky through their window is still gloomy and grey. His roommates are both awake, though, putting on clothes or brushing their hair. 

 

Charlie tells him in a hushed tone that they need to get ready as early as possible, since it’s their duty to be ready when someone calls for them. She gets even more quiet when she says that a lot of the royals enjoy having company in the morning. 

 

It’s uncomfortably silent while Dean gets up and into fresh clothes, stomach twisting at the implications.

 

Anna leaves soon, and thankfully a lot of the awkwardness in the room leaves with her. Charlie starts to chatter about whatever comes to her mind as she makes her bed, but is soon interrupted when a servant enters their chamber. 

 

“I have something for Dean,” he says, and looks around between them. Dean steps forward and takes the stack of clothes the man holds out.

 

Charlie sends Dean a look and falls back down to her bed as soon as the servant leaves. “I‘ve been here for a year, now. It could be worse, you know?” she says, and sounds weirdly clinical about it. “At least for us three. Anna, she’s something like the head concubine? She organizes and takes in new people, doesn’t have to spend time with royals the way most of us do. Princess Hannah claimed me a few months ago, so I’m lucky enough not to have to meet anyone else. When I don’t have to be with her, I help in the kitchen,” she whispers, and it sounds a little pained.

 

“I just… I can’t imagine ever getting used to any of this,” Dean admits, and realizes a little too late that his fingers are cramping up in the clothes he’s still holding.

 

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve got it quite good, too? If it’s true that Prince Castiel claimed you,” she says, looking at him curiously.

 

“That’s what he said, yes. But  —   what exactly does that mean?” Dean’s stomach clenches just thinking about what might be related to this claim.

 

“It means you’re his and nobody else gets to have you.” She doesn’t sound like she pities Dean, and thinking about other concubines, who apparently get tossed around between different royals, he has to at least try to be positive about this.

 

“How is he?” He hadn’t planned on asking, but he’s too curious. Curious about the growling feral alpha that turned soft as a kitten in mere minutes. The man who wrapped Dean up in blankets but hadn’t hesitated to let Alastair know that he’s ready to kill him just minutes before that.

 

“He’s a little weird,” she says, and, wow, that doesn’t help Dean’s nerves at all. “I don’t know much about him, he keeps to himself. The few times I talked to him, he was quite pleasant, treated me like a human. But…” she trails off, and looks at him. “Most royals have several concubines — and if they are possessive enough to claim one of us as  _ only theirs _ , they tend to claim more than one omega. Castiel has never even taken a concubine before, hasn’t been interested in anyone as far as I know. So, I guess you’ll have to find out how he is in… that regard.”

 

“Claiming — I mean, how does that even work?”

 

“I’m not so sure. I think they verbally claim a concubine in front of their whole family, so they all know who the omega belongs to and not to approach that one? I’ve heard rumors about people being killed for touching a claimed concubine.”

 

There goes Dean’s plan to get breakfast — he feels sick again. Yes, Prince Castiel might be good-looking, might have saved him from Alastair, might be calm and pleasant as far as Charlie knows. But still, he claimed Dean as his personal concubine. He chose Dean to be one of the concubines he will fuck from now on. He can be as pleasant as they come, he’s still just another royal and Dean is just another concubine.

 

Dean puts the stack of clothes down in his space of their shared closet when another servant rushes into the room. “Prince Castiel awaits his concubine.”

 

Charlie sends him a look that’s stuck somewhere between “good luck” and “I’m sorry,” and Dean leaves her with spasming hands to walks towards the room he’s supposed to meet Castiel in.

 

When Dean pushes the door open, Castiel isn’t there yet, so he does what he’s supposed to do. He leaves his clothes in a heap next to the door and presents, waits for the prince to join him.

 

It doesn’t take long for the door to open this time, but there are no other noises for several endless seconds. 

 

“Dean.” It sounds a little choked, but Dean immediately recognizes the deep timbre as Castiel’s. His back stiffens a little, but he tries very hard to breathe and not let his fear seep into his scent. “Dean, please get up.” 

 

He gets off the bed and stands in front of the prince, naked, soft, and still waiting. Always just waiting. He can’t bring himself to look into eyes that are surely alpha red, lets his gaze settle somewhere between Castiel’s nose and mouth instead, and brings his hands together behind his back.

 

“This — Dean, this is not at all what I want from you. Shit, I’m so sorry I haven’t been clear enough in telling you this — please put your clothes back on, come on.” He sounds frantic as he says it, searching the room with his eyes until he finds Dean’s clothes on the floor. He picks them up and shoves them at Dean, averting his eyes as soon as he has done so. 

 

It’s all Dean can do to stare at the man in front of him and comply. 

 

He tries to scent him, to catch any emotion in the air between them so he can understand this situation a little better — but all he smells is a thick layer of soap, something citrusy. 

 

And that’s when it hits him that he didn’t catch Castiel’s scent yesterday, either. All he remembers is the horrible smell of Alastair. He instinctively  _ knew  _ that Castiel was alpha, but he never got a whiff of his scent.

 

Once he’s in his clothes, he takes a seat on the bed, clears his throat and waits for Castiel to speak. Waits, and for the first time since arriving in this castle, not while being entirely frightened about what’s to come. 

 

Castiel takes a seat next to him, again very careful not to touch him. “I just — I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy. Without sounding like I’m trying to push you into something.” He sighs and cards a hand through his tousled dark hair. “I saw you on your way in, and I just — I couldn’t let anyone else have you.” He’s quiet for a few minutes after that, eyes firmly locked on the ceiling.

 

“Why me?” It slips out, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret asking it.

 

“You are — you are exquisite,” he breathes. “You radiate this goodness, this warmth. I saw you wedged between the guards as they dragged you into the castle, and you looked so horribly scared. I couldn’t let anything like that happen to you ever again.” He’s looking at everything but Dean, and he sounds both ashamed and absolutely miserable when he says this. The look of pain on his face makes Dean realize something that scares him a little. Whether or not Castiel is lying about this, if he just keeps this act up convincingly, Dean might start to believe him, might even start to like him. “I needed to keep you safe. I realize now that my behaviour frightened you even more, but you have to believe me that all my anger was for Alastair, because he touched you against your will. I swore to keep all these things from you, only to find you ten minutes after laying my claim, having to endure exactly what I wanted to save you from.”

 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Dean tries, but he doesn’t manage to make the words sound very convincing.

 

“It made me furious to see that bastard treating you like that, like you’re a thing he can just take, like you have no voice anyway. I want you to know that your voice is the only thing that matters. I want you to be safe, to have as good of a time as possible in here,” he says, and sends Dean a sad little smile.

 

“By… making me your personal concubine?”

 

“It’s not — It’s not that simple. Claiming you, it means that nobody will be allowed to touch you. Nobody but me,” he says, but then hurries to continue: “But I really hope I finally made it clear to you that I don’t want that, anyway. But it means that you are  _ mine _ , and whoever doesn’t respect that, has to deal with the consequences,” Castiel says, and there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dean shudder a little.

 

“Okay,” Dean says, unsure what else Castiel might want to hear.

 

“Okay,” Castiel repeats, and then the worried frown on his face gets a little less intense. “Good. I would like to spend a few hours with you every day, nevertheless — if that’s alright with you? Just, you know, to talk. I would like to get to know you. And if we would never meet up, we would probably raise some suspicions.”

 

“Yeah, um, sure. Makes sense,” Dean breathes, but his heart is screaming, and so is his brain.  _ This can’t be true. Be careful, be careful, be careful. _

 

“Well. What do you want to know, Dean? I’m sure you have a few questions?” 

 

Dean can’t help but snort at that. “Yeah,  _ a few _ .”

 

So Castiel starts talking. He tells Dean that his father, King Zachariah, and his mother, Queen Naomi, have six kids in total, five sons and one daughter. Castiel is their fifth child, after Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Hannah, but older than their youngest, Samandriel. 

 

“Most of them are alright, I think. Gabriel can be a great guy, Hannah too. And Samandriel is still too young to be anything but good,” Castiel says with a fond smile, and Dean can’t help but notice how good he looks like this. 

 

He ends up talking a lot about Samandriel, about his studies and his friends and how much time Castiel spends with him, tries to shield him from the influence of his oldest brothers. He gets quite emotional, and Dean catches himself feeling for him, understanding him.

 

That’s probably why he eventually blurts out: “My younger brother, Sammy. He just turned eleven, he’s eight years younger than me. We, um — my dad’s an asshole. So, I get that shielding thing. I’ve been trying to keep them apart for years. I’m just glad he presented alpha a few weeks ago, I think dad will like him better now.”

 

He blushes immediately, but Castiel has a gentle, sad look on his face and it makes Dean feel a little better about sharing this.

 

“Your father — he’s the one who sent you here, right?”

 

Dean doesn’t answer, can’t with the way his throat closes up again, so he just nods and Castiel changes the topic again.

 

They don’t talk about a lot of other personal things that day, mostly about the castle and the surrounding properties. 

 

Castiel walks Dean back to his room afterwards, and they get a few looks Dean can’t quite decipher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love if you'd come talk to me/scream at me on [Tumblr](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/)!!!


	3. Hesitant

Over the next few days Dean spends a lot of time with Castiel. He learns more and more about him, about his relationship to his parents (which sounds almost as bad as Dean and John’s). He seems to disagree with them on a lot of fronts, from politics to gender roles and mating, but when Dean hesitantly asks about his opinion on his family having concubines working for them, he gets downright furious.

 

It’s about four days later when Dean first smells Alastair in the hallways near his room. The closer he gets to his room, the more intense the smell gets, and then he panics. He backs off, starts shivering, doesn’t know what to do, and ends up bolting to hide in his and Cas’ room for the rest of the day.

 

Castiel finds him eventually, bursting into the room with a scared look on his face. When he sees Dean, curled up against the headboard, he takes a stuttering breath and slowly walks closer.

 

“Dean. Dean, are you okay? I’ve been looking for you for a while after Inias couldn’t find you in your room,” he murmurs as he sits down next to him.

 

Dean knows this is ridiculous, knows he’s acting like a stereotypical whiney scared little omega, and he hates it — but he shoves himself into Cas’ arms anyway. With his nose pressed into Cas’ neck he still mostly smells soap, but there’s an underlying, very gentle scent of honey, too.

 

His breath shudders a little, but then he presses out: “I smelled Alastair near my room earlier.”

 

He feels Castiel’s growl rumble through his chest, and suddenly it smells a little like burnt honey and and a lot like anger. “Did he touch you?” he asks, voice dangerously composed.

 

“No, didn’t even see him. I‘m sorry about making you worry, about being like this,” he whispers.

 

“Don’t be. I can only imagine how you must feel,” Cas says, and the smell of honey is gone again. “You won’t have to worry about him much longer.”

 

They stay like that for a while longer, just Cas holding Dean against his chest, hands carefully travelling through his hair.

 

Cas ends up walking him back to his room despite Dean’s weak protests, trails behind him and only leaves with a small smile when Dean’s inside the room with Charlie.

  


~~oOo~~

  


When Dean walks into their room the next day, this time after being called there by another servant, Cas is already there. He’s sitting on the bed, hands folded in his lap, and looks a little nervous.

 

“Hello, Cas,” Dean greets him, and plops down on the bed next to him.

 

Cas looks a little stunned at first, but then he shakes himself out of it and his eyes get more serious. “Hello, Dean. How are you today?”

 

“Better,” he says, and stretches his hands over his head where he lies on the bed. He’s honest, though he still worries about running into Alastair.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and,” Cas says, and he looks bashful and unsure, “I think you should wear my collar.”

 

“Wha— Um. Sorry, what?”

 

“A collar. That shows people you’re mine.”

 

Dean just looks, with wide eyes and an expression that must be a mixture between alarm and confusion. “You want me to wear a collar, so people can see that you own me? That I’m your property?” He asks, and even _he_ shudders a little at how ice-cold his voice sounds.

 

“I — I want people to see that you belong to me, not that I own you! I think it might help with people like Alastair, when they can see that you’re not for everyone to have,” Cas says, a little rumble in his voice that Dean hates to like. “A few others wear them, too. I’m not sure if you saw any?”

 

“I mean, I guess that makes sense. Did you…” he trails off, and when he looks back up at Cas, there’s a thin black leather collar in his hands.

 

It looks delicate and actually kind of pretty, nothing like the collars he saw on some of the other concubines in the castle, thick studded ones with silver rings to attach something like a leash to.

 

“Do you — Does it look ok?” Cas asks, and he’s biting his bottom lip.

 

“Yeah. You wanna put it on right now?” He asks, and he already feels the phantom touch of it around his throat.

 

“No, of course not! But I think you should put it on before you leave. You don’t have to wear it when you’re with me. You should be able to put it on and take it off yourself — I did, it’s why I picked it for you,” Cas says, and he finally sounds a bit more confident again.

 

Dean’s not sure why, but the thought of Cas possibly trying on collars to decide which one to give Dean makes his fingers and stomach tingle a little.

 

“Alright.”

  


~~oOo~~

  


Wearing Castiel’s collar isn’t hard, makes Dean feel safe and special — and he hates that, too.

 

Charlie looked a little surprised when she first saw it on him, but explained it with: “It’s pretty common for possessive royals to hand out collars to their claimed ones, I guess Castiel just didn’t seem the type to me. Like Hannah, she didn’t give me one either.”

 

Dean still hasn’t told her about Alastair, but he hasn’t seen or smelled him anywhere for at least a week, so he doesn’t bring it up just to explain Castiel’s decision.

 

Charlie doesn’t comment on it after that, just as she doesn’t talk about Dean’s clothes.

 

Dean knows it’s not normal for royals to give their own, expensive clothes to their concubines, knows that concubines usually wear the worn clothes of servants. And he also knows that it’s not normal for royals to give out their collar simply for protection.

 

But maybe… maybe Castiel just isn’t a normal royal.

  


~~oOo~~

  


Dean falls into something like a routine with Castiel, and he’s very surprised to find that their meetings get even more pleasant with time. Conversation goes easier with everything he learns about Cas, his ideas and values and personality. How he smiles this gentle smile whenever Dean shares something about his own life, how he spends several hours a day reading and repeatedly, casually, invites Dean to join him in the library if he ever finds time. How he seems to know the name of everyone he interacts with in the castle; alphas, betas, omegas, staff, royals — it doesn’t seem to matter. How he radiates calmness and, with time, safety.

 

It’s been been about a month since Dean got into the castle when he realizes that he’s come to trust Cas.

  


~~oOo~~

  


Dean walks into their room and plops down on the bed next to Cas, who’s been waiting for him propped up against the headboard, reading.

 

“How are you today?” he asks and closes the book, eyes soft and happy, fixed on Dean’s face.

 

“I’m good. Just, tired. Don’t really know why, but I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

 

“Do you want to take a nap?”

 

“I mean — Don’t you want to talk to me?” he asks, but the end of his question is drowned by a big yawn.

 

“Not if you don’t don’t feel up to it,” Cas says, and sends Dean a small smile. “Maybe I’ll read. Or take a nap, too.”

 

It’s only when Dean buries his face in the pillows by Cas’ hip that he realizes that he’s forgotten to take off the collar by the door. He carefully unclasps it now, and throws it down on the bed somewhere behind him before finally closing his eyes.

 

When Dean wakes up what could either be minutes or hours later, Cas is asleep next to him. He’s still sitting propped up against a mountain of pillows, head resting against the wall behind him, book open in his lap. He has one hand splayed open and resting on his book, while the fingers of his right hand are woven into Dean’s hair; a comfortable, warm pressure, if maybe a bit sweaty.

 

Dean’s omega wants to purr at the gentle attention, and it takes him a while before he manages to roll out of Cas’ reach.

  


~~oOo~~

  


Before Charlie finally introduces Dean to Jo, there’s a lot of _but you gotta promise to be nice, okay?_ and _she can be a little harsh sometimes, but she’s so amazing once you get to know her_ and _I promise you’ll like her_. Charlie is biting her lip and looking worried as she pulls him through half the castle.

 

“Charles, don’t worry,” Dean laughs as she pulls him around yet another corner. “I’m sure we’ll get along great.”

 

And Dean was right. Jo is just as amazing as Charlie made her out to be; a feisty beta, and a little rude, but clever and sweet and nice. Dean can see, from the way she seems to be unable to leave Charlie’s space, from the gentle touches, the soft looks, how much Charlie means to her.

 

That alone would make Dean like her — but he’s gotta admit that her jokes are pretty funny, too.

 

He learns that the reason why he’s never seen her during any meals in their shared dining hall is that she’s one of the maids responsible for serving food to the king and his family.

 

He meets her mom, Ellen, afterwards, and immediately feels like he’s just been adopted by the lovely, warm-hearted beta.

 

“Welcome to the family,” she says, smiling and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “So tell me, is our prince treating you right?”

  


~~oOo~~

  


It’s a slow day; Dean’s time with Cas this morning was nice, but he’s been alone for hours now, no trace of Charlie. He’s blaming his boredom for the fact that he’s eventually wandering around the library that afternoon, looking for Cas’ company.

 

Dean finds him in a cushioned chair in a corner at the back of the library, next to a big window. He looks so ordinary, so normal, and all kinds of cute, where he’s curled up in the chair, his legs dangling off the arm-rest, a book in his hands.

 

Cas doesn’t even notice when Dean starts approaching him, which makes Dean feel a little better about staring for such a long time. But Cas’ hair is a mess and his shirt is riding up over his hip, and he’s got this sweet squint on his face while he reads, and it’s all just so endearing that Dean has a hard time looking away.

 

When he eventually does pry his eyes off of Cas’ fascinatingly sharp hip bone, he clears his throat a little to make Cas look up at him. As soon as he catches Dean’s eyes, a big smile spreads over his face and he wiggles himself up into a sitting position.

 

“Hello, Dean,” he says. “I’m happy you’re here!”

 

“Yeah, I — I was bored and remembered your invitation, so I came to see if you’re here.”

 

“I’m here pretty much all the time,” Cas laughs. And, _wow_ , his laugh is beautiful, all teeth and wrinkled nose and bright eyes.

 

Dean struggles a little to catch his breath, but Cas just gets up and walks towards him. “Do you have a favorite book?”

 

“I, um.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Well, honestly, I barely learned how to read, and my dad didn’t like it at all once he found out, you know, with me being omega and all. So… I haven’t really read anything but a few newspaper articles I got my hands on, road signs and stuff like that. Never got to read a book,” Dean says, and his cheeks are burning.

 

“Oh. God, I’m sorry your father is such an asshole,” Cas breathes, and he sounds so painfully honest.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

“Do you want to pick one?”

 

Dean looks up, and Cas has this sparkle in his eyes again, looks so excited at the mere possibility of being able to help him pick a book that Dean just can’t say no.

 

“Sure,” he smiles, and Cas already disappears between shelves and shelves of books.

 

“What kinds of stories do you like, Dean?” Dean hears from somewhere to his right.

 

“I’m not sure. Maybe something adventurous? Exciting?”

 

Cas hums, and then murmurs: “Yes, I think I can work with that.”

  


~~oOo~~

  


That’s how Dean ends up with an armful of books, an overjoyed Cas, and a warm feeling somewhere in his chest.

 

They start reading together after that, side by side, sprawled across the bed in their room. Most of their meetings are spent like that, quiet and relaxed, arms brushing every once in a while, the soft sounds of turning pages the only thing that interrupts their silence.

 

Dean isn’t nearly as fast as Cas when it comes to reading, but he’s steadily making his way through his stack of books and he feels very good about it. He loves this time with Cas, the hours he spends sinking into a different, better, more colorful world, learning about new things, new people.

 

When either of them reaches a particularly good scene, they read it out loud to share with each other. Dean stumbles a bit, sometimes, but Cas just sits and smiles and is patient and lovely.

 

Dean enjoys it most when they both lose track of time together. Sometimes a servant hesitantly knocks to ask for Cas’ presence at royals meetings, sometimes Cas suddenly jumps up because he realized the sun went down and they both missed dinner — and neither of them noticed.

 

But what Dean loves most is when they spend hours and hours together. When morning turns into noon, turns into afternoon, and Cas slowly starts to smell a little more of honey than of scrubbed clean skin. When Dean can subtly breathe in his gentle smell and try to guess what else he’s hiding behind citrus and soap.

  


~~oOo~~

  


“Dean? You know you don’t have to spend time with me if you don’t want to, right?” Cas asks, very much out of nowhere during one of their reading sessions.

 

“Yes. I, I mean —”

 

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, at all. If that includes being around me, you just have to say so,” Cas interrupts. “I can live with that.”

 

“Yes. I realized a while ago that you care about my free will.”

 

“So…” Cas starts, and he looks unsure and careful, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his book hanging in his hand. “So, you’d tell me?”

 

“Yes, Cas, I’d tell you. I enjoy this,” Dean says, and sends Cas an honest, soft smile. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

 

Cas lights up at that, and then goes back to reading his book without a word. He’s still smiling when they part an hour later.

  


~~oOo~~

  


Sometime during his months in the castle, putting on his collar becomes part of Dean’s daily routine just like brushing his teeth did when he was a child.

  
The more he realizes that Cas really doesn’t _expect_ anything more from him, the more he finds himself enjoying the feeling of the collar whenever he notices it against his neck during his day — a soft reminder that he’s not alone with Charlie in here, that Cas cares. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY GUYS THERE IS SOME GORGEOUS ART FOR THIS STORY AND YOU SHOULD REALLY GO CHECK IT OUT OMG!!!!!!!!! I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE [THIS BEAUTIFUL THING](https://wingsandimpalas.tumblr.com/post/180477606372/annas-new-fic-is-a-beautiful-emotional) EXISTS!!!!


	4. Careful

A few days later, Dean walks into their room and Cas is standing next to the door, waiting with a big basket in one hand. 

 

“Hello, Dean,” he says. “I was hoping — was wondering, if maybe you’d want to have dinner with me today?” 

 

“Would — Sure, I’d like that,” Dean says, and he feels giddy when he catches the wide smile on Cas’ face.

 

“Oh. Oh, well, I’m very glad,” he breathes. “I had some food prepared, and thought we could head out and eat in the garden. It’s a bit cold, so we should grab some coats — but if it’s too much, we could always eat in one of the empty stables.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Dean says, and then they wander back to Dean’s room so he can grab an additional shirt and the warm coat Cas gave him a few days ago.

 

The garden looks impossibly more beautiful than when Dean came here in early summer, the leaves of trees and bushes colored in gorgeous reds and oranges and dark greens and yellows, and the ones that have already fallen from the trees scrunching beneath their feet. 

 

They make it to the small well in the middle of the garden, where Cas starts to get a blanket out of the basket when Dean notices that Cas is shivering all over already.

 

“Let’s move this to the stables, huh?” Dean laughs, but pulls his coat off of his shoulders at the same time. “Come on, Cas, get in here, I can’t have you getting sick,” he smiles, and walks towards Cas, coat in his hands.

 

“Dean, you’re the one who’ll get sick if you walk around without your coat,” Cas huffs, but when Dean doesn’t budge and just watches him with a challenging look, he eventually lets Dean help him into the coat. 

 

“Just give it back to me when we’re in the stables, my prince,” he grins, and beckons Cas to show the way.

 

Dean has never seen the stables behind the castle, so he’s a little baffled to suddenly find himself in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by old stone buildings and the smell of horses. Cas guides him to a small barn at the back of the courtyard and through an old, wooden door.

 

It’s a small barn, and it looks a little abandoned, but there’s light streaming through the missing patches in the wooden walls. It smells like hay and distant woodsmoke and autumn, and Dean decides he definitely has to take Charlie out here someday.

 

While he wanders around the barn, Cas spreads the blanket on the floor, swirling up dust and small pieces of hay in the process. He starts to empty the basket and when Dean joins him on the blanket, there are tons of food spread out all around him.

 

Cas smiles up at him from where he’s already sitting on the floor, and nods down to the the space next to him. “I wasn’t sure what you like most, so I got a little bit of everything.”

 

They start to eat in comfortable silence, but it is soon interrupted when Dean moans a little at how rich and soft the bread is, at the deliciously seasoned vegetable spread, the soft, perfect meat he gets to eat with it. Cas just eats and glances towards Dean every now and then, an amused, flustered expression on his face. 

 

When Dean’s positively stuffed with food, he picks up one of the peaches Cas got them as dessert, and when he takes a bite and the juice drips down over his fingers, he wants to cry with happiness. 

 

“Oh m’god,” he blurts, mouth still full of fresh peach. “This ‘s so good.”

 

Cas looks at him with a smile as bright as sunshine. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

 

“I haven’t eaten anything this good in months, I think,” Dean says, and then he focuses back on his perfect peach.

 

“I have some pie, too,” Cas interrupts him a bit later, when Dean has pulled most of the pulp off the pit, and holds up a plate with a few pieces of pie.

 

“Oh  _ yes _ ,” Dean breathes, and leans forward into Cas’ space to take a deep breath of apple pie and cinnamon. “Cas, you are perfect.”

 

Cas blushes a lot, and wordlessly hands Dean a piece of pie.

 

“Pie is the way to my heart,” Dean grins, and then he takes a bite of the most heavenly thing he has ever eaten.

 

When they are both done, and Dean feels like he might explode any second, they put away plates and food together, and then sink down on the blanket next to each other.

 

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean says. “Really. That was amazing.”

 

Cas turns his face towards Dean, and he looks breathtaking down here: on the floor, in the middle of a dirty, old barn, next to Dean.

 

“What did you mean when you said you haven’t eaten anything this good in a long time?” Cas asks, and he sounds very lost in thought.

 

“Just, you know, the food we get isn’t too good.”

 

“The food for the staff? What  _ do  _ you get?”

 

“Leftovers, mostly. Old vegetables, a lot of potatoes, sometimes there’s a little meat left from cooking for you guys.”

 

“What?”, Cas sits up and stares at him, angry and confused. “I thought you get the same food we do?” 

 

Dean snorts, sits up to be on eye-level with Cas and claps him on the shoulder a little. “The same food as the royals? No.”

 

“That. That’s not okay, I didn’t know.” Cas still looks worried, and Dean suddenly really wants to kiss the frown off of his face. He hurries to push this thought back down as quick as possible, though, and instead pulls on Cas’ arm until he lies back down with him.

 

“Don’t worry, we’re fine. Would be nicer to have fancy food like you do, of course, but we’re alright,” Dean says, and then he decides to change the topic. “Cas? Have you ever left the country?”

 

Cas turns over to watch him, propped up on his arm, and his expression slowly turns soft again. “Yes. A few times, actually.”

 

“Tell me about it?” Dean smiles, and then he gets to close his eyes, listen to Cas’ smooth voice, and imagine visiting all these places with Cas.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


The next day, when Charlie and Dean drag themselves to breakfast, Benny is smiling like crazy, and proudly handing them plates full of scrambled eggs and fresh bread, a few pieces of bacon on the side. 

 

Charlie inhales her food even faster than Dean does, and he feels weirdly proud of her for that. Her smiles are a lot more genuine, that day.

 

The day after that, they get big, fresh pieces of chicken and potatoes for lunch, and Dean feels like all the other staff members and concubines around him look a little happier. 

 

The day after, they get fresh vegetables and noodles, both for the first time since Dean came into the castle.

 

Dean can’t keep ignoring the fuzzy, warm wave of feelings for Cas that washes over him when he realizes what must have happened. That Cas must have done this for them, however the hell he managed to change things.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean ends up taking Charlie out to the small barn a few days later, and she loves it even more than Dean did; flops down on a stack of hay immediately, and refuses to leave for ages, even though she’s shivering and shaking.

 

“I will definitely take Jo out here,” she announces before they start their walk back inside. The sun is shining on their noses, warming their faces, so they decide to take a small detour through the garden to admire the colorful trees together. 

 

Dean finds a few fallen leaves he really likes, and decides to take some of them with him to put beneath his bed, mostly so he has some things that truly belong to him. He’s ashamed to admit it, but his favorite one is the big maple leaf that he feels like matches the glimpse of alpha red he caught in Cas’ eyes all those weeks ago. 

 

He doesn’t like to think about Alastair, but he thinks a lot about Cas — about how he’s been so gentle and calm and controlled ever since, about how Dean has never seen even a trace of red in his eyes since that first day. And Dean can’t help but realize that when he looks back on it, Cas looked really good when he lost control in front of Alastair like that.

 

Dean eventually gives it to Cas, without a comment or explanation further than: “I thought of you and… felt like maybe you’d like it.”

 

Cas grins and blushes, and then he carefully tucks it between the pages of the book he’s currently reading.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


About a week after their picnic, Dean wanders into their room and sits down on the window sill, where he waits for Cas to turn up. 

 

Cas is never late, so when Dean realizes that it’s been twenty minutes since he should have shown up, he’s surprised. But Dean brought a book, so he starts to read to pass the time.

 

An hour later, he really starts to worry. He knows it’s not really his place, but he also knows that Cas wouldn’t just leave him waiting for such a long time without a least sending someone to let Dean know.

 

He walks out into the hallways and waits another ten minutes, before he decides to look for someone he could ask for help in finding Cas. He’s lucky, because very soon a frantic looking servant walks by.

 

“Hey,” Dean says, and steps away from the wall he’s been leaning against. “I’m sorry, but I’m looking for C— Prince Castiel?”

 

The servant looks at him through a mop of blond hair and seems very annoyed. “I don’t have time for this,” he says, and starts walking again, but not before throwing a stressed “The prince is sick, I really need to get back and help.” over his shoulder.

 

And, really, what else could Dean do but rush after him to see what’s going on? Was he talking about Cas? Is Cas sick?

 

It takes a while to get from their wing of the castle to the rooms of the nobles, and Dean worries a little that he might not find the way back afterwards, but that’s the least of his problems right now.

 

Eventually, the servant rushes into a room, through a big wooden door, and Dean hesitates a little before poking his head through after him. 

 

And then he sees Cas, leaning up against the headboard with a rumpled head, wrapped in blankets up to his chin. His cheeks are red, his nose even redder, and he has horrible dark rings under his eyes, and Dean can’t help but rush in and to his side.

 

“Cas? Are you okay?” he asks, and shoves past a few people that might be servants or nurses or doctors, to kneel down next to Cas’ bed on the floor.

 

Cas looks at him, eyes glassy, and starts to talk, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit. When he speaks, his voice is raspy: “I’m fine, just a little sick. What are you doing here, Dean?”

 

“I was waiting for you,” Dean says, and lifts his hand up to Cas’ forehead. “Cas, you’re really hot!”

 

“Why, thank you,” Cas laughs, but then he starts coughing again and Dean feels his chest constrict. 

 

“Cas?” He tried to go for stern, but he sounds breathless and worried instead. “Are you okay?”

 

Someone behind him clears their throat and then steps forward to Cas’ side and next to Dean. It’s a male alpha, looking down at Dean with a frown. “Prince Castiel has a common cold, no need for hysterics. I think you should leave.”

 

He feels his skin crawl at the alpha’s tone and jumps up, shoulders squared and chest puffed out. “I won’t leave Cas,” he says, voice sure and direct. “As long as he doesn’t send me away, I will stay right here.” He turns back to Cas, but before their eyes even lock, Cas’ voice slices through the suddenly tension-laden air.

 

“Dean can stay in here as long as he wants to — and you won’t talk to him like that again.” He’s growling, and while it doesn’t work as well with his hoarse voice as it would have usually, Dean still shivers a little. 

 

“I — I’m sorry, my Prince. It won’t happen again,” the alpha stutters. “We are done with your examination anyway, so as long as you don’t need anything else, we will leave you alone to rest?”

 

“Yes, that’s fine,” Cas rasps, eyes fixed on Dean. “I have everything I need.”

 

“Good, right. We’ll be back to check on you in a few hours, and Garth will stay around to come in whenever you call.” 

 

“Thank you,” Cas says, and when the alpha and his entourage turn to leave the room, his eyes finally turn soft where they watch Dean’s face. “Sit down with me?”

 

“Do you need anything, Cas? A cold towel? Some water? Food?” 

 

Cas laughs, throaty and quiet. “No, Dean, thank you. I’m alright. Do you want to spend some time with me?”

 

The smile that grows on Dean’s face can’t be anything but soft. “Yeah, sure.”

 

They talk for a bit, but then Cas voice starts to disappear, so Dean grabs the book on Cas’ nightstand and opens the page where the red leaf Dean gifted Cas replaces a bookmark. He smiles hard when he realizes, but then he wills himself to concentrate and starts reading to Cas.

 

They lose track of time again, and only stop reading when Dean’s voice starts to disappear a little, and Cas’ eyes start to droop a lot. He checks Cas’ temperature again, and when he realizes that Cas is still burning up, he brings a cold towel and carefully wipes sweat from his forehead.

 

“How are you feeling, Cas? And be honest, please?”

 

“I’m — Everything hurts a little and I can’t breathe right, but I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and he looks adorable with his red nose and that dopey smile and his glassy eyes.

 

Dean grins back, and he’s sure he looks just as dopey, if still worried. “Me too.”

 

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep you company for much longer, though. I feel like I might fall asleep any second now, sitting up, or standing, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“Oh! Oh, sure, I’m so sorry! Wait, let me just —” he jumps up on the bed and knee-walks over to where Cas is half-buried under blankets. “Can I just — Can I fluff your pillow a bit?” 

 

Cas looks a little confused, but he sits up and lets Dean do as he pleases nevertheless. Dean knows he’s fussing over Cas, but he really can’t help it with how miserable he looks. He shakes the pillows and then he pushes Cas back down and pulls the blankets up over him again, tucks him in like he vaguely remembers his mom doing, back when he was still very, very small. 

 

Cas barely manages to keep his eyes open, but he’s still smiling when he says: “‘m I gonna get a good-night kiss too?”

 

Dean snorts at how eager Cas looks, and bends down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Good night, Cas.”

 

“Night,” Cas mumbles, but before he closes his eyes, he seems to remember something. “Wait, Dean?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Would you stay with me?”

 

Dean slips beneath the blankets next to Cas, a respectable distance of a few feet between them. 

 

He’s on his side, head pillowed on his hand, and watches as Cas falls asleep, both tiredness and illness pulling him into a deep sleep in mere seconds. 

 

He’s in bed. With Cas. And the giddiness in his stomach won’t disappear, no matter how long he watches and basks in Cas’ presence.

 

But he can’t seem to fall asleep, and it’s only when he switches the lights off and stops worrying about Cas so much, calms down enough to really breathe, that he smells it. It mostly smells of illness and sick alpha, and a little bit of sweat — but also a little like Cas, like honey, like alpha, and Dean wants to roll in this scent. 

 

When he eventually falls asleep, it’s with a smile on his face and a warm feeling all over.

 

He dreams about Cas, about what’s carefully hidden beneath soap and citrus.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean spends every minute of the following four days by Cas’ side. He reads to him, he eats with him, he brings him water and tea, he makes sure he takes his medications, he sleeps next to Cas, in his very big bed. 

 

He makes his bed and pushes pillows behind his back and it’s on the second evening that he realizes he’s building them a nest. Cas seems to either not notice or not care, so Dean only blushes half as hard as he would have if Cas’d actually called him out on it, and shoves the pillows back to where they used to lean against the headboard.

 

Cas is feeling better now, though, already took a shower and is now sitting in bed next to Dean, sipping on some herbal tea.

 

“I’m glad you’re better,” Dean says, and Cas looks up from his book and at him.

 

“Me too. Thank you, for helping me through it. For keeping me company,” he says, and he turns towards Dean, their knees touching.

 

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be here,” Dean says, and it feels heavy, like a confession he shouldn’t have thrown out there this easily. 

 

Cas watches him, and he looks a little in awe. “Me too,” he breathes, and Dean  is overwhelmed with the pull in his chest, the need to touch Cas, to feel him. So he leans forward, until he’s in Cas’ space and can lift his hand up to rest on Cas’ chest. And their faces are so close, he could just lean forward. He could just try, could just press his lips against Cas’ and hope for the best. 

 

So he does, eyes fixed on Cas’ lips, pink and plush and never before looking this good, but just before he can reach them, Cas scoots back.

 

Dean’s eyes shoot up, and suddenly all the calm, warm feelings in his chest are replaced by ice cold panic. Cas looks at him with wide eyes, lips pressed to a small, angry line.

 

“No,” he mumbles, and sets his cup of tea down on his nightstand. Dean feels it like a punch to his chest.  

 

Cas scrambles off the bed, to his feet, and he isn’t looking into Dean’s eyes when he says: “Sorry. I need to use the bathroom.” And then he’s rushing to lock himself up in the bathroom.

 

When he comes back out endless minutes later, his smile is a little strained and he sits down an arms-length away from Dean. And he doesn’t mention the almost-kiss at all, so Dean just blushes again and does the same.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Not talking about it isn’t half as awkward as Dean thought it would be, their time together is still just as calm and fun and peaceful as it has been. 

 

But Dean doesn’t try again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Just another short reminder that you are *very* welcome to come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/)!! :')


	5. Desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome back, I'm sorry... there's gonna be quite...... a lot of porn.

Dean has been feeling a little cold for days, shivering even while he’s wrapped in three shirts, but he hadn’t thought much of it. Autumn is slowly turning into winter, the air is cold and the stone walls of the castle are even colder. He hasn’t been outside in days, the wind so freezing cold it feels like it’s cutting through his skin. 

 

It’s only when he wakes up on the third night of shivering beneath three blankets, the sky outside pitch black and Charlie softly snoring in the bed next to his, that he realizes what’s going on. At first, all he feels is frustrated anger, because he’s gone into heat every four months since turning 15. He should be used to it, should have prepared for this. But apparently he lost track of time since leaving home, and simply forgot about it all like an absolute idiot. Awesome.

 

A few minutes of tossing and turning in bed and he can feel that he’s starting to produce slick, and while he’s very glad for the thick pyjama bottoms he chose to wear, he knows they won’t help very long with how rapidly the burning need in his stomach is growing. He’s hard already, and more overwhelmed with desperation and the need for touch than he’s ever been at this early stage of his heat. He can  _ feel  _ how quickly he’s losing the battle against his hormones.

 

He  _ needs _ , needs so badly already, but there’s enough rational thought left that he knows he has to get somewhere safe, where no strange alpha can find and touch him. He knows where he wants to be, who he wants to be with.

 

He gets out of bed, careful not to wake anyone up, puts his collar on and starts padding through the hallways on bare feet. 

 

Afterwards, he isn’t sure how he managed to find Cas’ room this quick with the fog of heat all around him, especially without bumping into anyone; it was luck, most likely. He thinks he followed the slight smell of honey in the air, the one that sometimes breaks through the layer of soap and citrus Cas covers himself in, but maybe he just imagined that. Whatever it was, he’s here, in front of what  _ must  _ be Cas’ door, and there are no guards, so he just barges right in before he can even think the whole thing through.

 

He  _ needs _ . He  _ needs Cas _ .

 

The bed is so big, so inviting, looks warm and safe — and that’s all Dean can focus on when he closes the door behind him and makes his way towards where Cas is curled up between the sheets. Dean’s been steadily leaking slick since he got out of bed, but the closer he gets to Cas, the more intense it seems to get. He can feel it running down the back of his thighs, make his pants stick to his legs, but he doesn’t care — because he knows Cas is here. Cas will take care of him.

 

He slides into bed next to Cas and cuddles up against him, buries his nose in the exposed crook of his neck —  and suddenly his world explodes right along with his nose. He smells honey and cedar and sunlight and  _ home _ ,  _ mate _ ,  _ love _ .  

 

Dean isn’t sure why he never truly smelled all of Cas before, but now that he gets to breathe him in, he wants his lungs to be filled with nothing but his perfect scent. He’s heard a lot of stories about truemates, but he never really believed them. He thought them fairytales omegas spin to make each other feel better, to have hope that whoever they will be married off to eventually might be good to them, good for them. 

 

But this — Cas — he smells like everything Dean has never let himself hope for. He smells perfect, and it only makes Dean more sure about this.

 

He whines low in his throat when he lets his tongue catch the first taste of  _ pure Cas, _ right from his scent gland, and ignores it when Cas starts to shift and groan beneath him. 

 

He watches Cas’ face in the soft moonlight, eyes still closed but breath pushing out of him faster, lip trembling a bit.

 

Cas groans again, shifts so that his own nose is pressed into Dean’s neck, and Dean can’t help but throw his leg over Cas and straddle him. He’s ruining Cas’ sheets now, but he doesn’t care, can’t care when he has Cas right beneath him, can feel him hard against his thigh through too many layers of pants and sheets. 

 

Pushing down against him, starting a slow grind, he whimpers when Cas’ hands suddenly grip his hips; hard and bruising. But then Cas picks him up and shoves him off, and Dean feels all the air leave his lungs as he plops down on the mattress next to Cas.

 

“Stop,” Cas growls, and Dean has to close his eyes against the sudden flood of doubt and pain.

 

Cas doesn’t want him. Cas isn’t interested, is probably disgusted. What was Dean thinking, throwing himself at the prince? The arousal clogging up his brain is gone in seconds, and he feels cold and scared as thoughts of possible consequences of all this start flying through his mind instead.

 

Cas is sitting there, panting and staring like he thinks Dean has lost his mind. 

 

Cas doesn’t want him. Cas hid his scent from him.  _ Cas doesn’t want him.  _

 

It hurts — so much so that Dean scrambles back from Cas until he reaches the end of the bed, until his hand grabs nothing but thin air, and he crashes to the floor. He wants to whine at the stabbing pain in his hip, but he can’t make any noises, can’t make Cas more aware of his presence.

 

But then Cas is right there on the floor with him, towering over him, arms supporting him on either side of Dean’s head, and all of Dean screams at him to surge up and kiss him.

 

“Dean,” he says, and while he still sounds very much short of breath, it does nothing to lessen the anger in his voice. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

 

“I needed you,” Dean murmurs, and lowers his gaze to where his hands are balled to fists at his sides. “Still do.”

 

“Dean, you’re in heat,” Cas pants, and his face is still so close to Dean’s that it hurts not to touch.

 

“Oh, I didn’t notice,” he spits, but  immediately feels sorry. He shakes his head and tries again. “No, I mean — yes. And I want you to help me through it.  _ Please _ .” Cas doesn’t seem so angry anymore, and now that Dean shook off the first, all-consuming shock of it all, he’s back to being needy and sad.

 

Cas doesn’t answer, just scrambles off of Dean. He’s pulling Dean up with him, pushes him down on the bed and goes back to staring. “Dean, I can’t — You can stay in here, of course, you’ll be safe here,” he says, and abruptly turns around to walk to his closet. 

 

Dean can’t help the whine that catches in his throat when Cas leaves him on the bed. “What are you…?”

 

Cas doesn’t answer, just frantically rummages through closet drawers, shoulders a little too tense. When he eventually turns around, he has sheets and towels in his hands, and his teeth are clenched. “Here, so you can change the sheets if you want. Whenever you want. That door at the back of the room leads to my bathroom, you can pick whatever you need from my closet. Just — just make yourself at home. Make your heat as pleasant as possible.”

 

It’s Dean who scrambles up this time, stumbles into Cas’ arms and holds onto him. “No. No, you can’t leave me. Please, I need you. I want you.”

 

Cas doesn’t even look at him, turns his head and stares at the wall somewhere above Dean’s shoulder. His breathing is shallow, and his teeth are still clenched when he says: “Dean, that’s your heat talking. I need to get out of here soon, or… Please, you need to let go of me.”

 

Dean recoils at that, because Cas really couldn’t be clearer on this. The room smells of nothing but Dean’s desperate arousal, and Cas still won’t give in. “You don’t want me,” he whispers as he takes the sheets from Cas’ arms. “It’s alright, I get it.”

 

“No, Dean, listen —”

 

“It’s alright, just. Just get out of here.” He tries for cold, but the pain of rejection is clear in his voice. All he wants is for Cas to come back into his personal space, to touch him, to kiss him. God, does he want Cas to kiss him. 

 

“That’s not — Dean, I want you too. So much. But I can’t do this when you’re drunk on hormones. I need you to be sure about this, because I  _ can’t  _ hurt you, use you, against your will.” Cas sounds almost as desperate as Dean feels at this point.

 

Cas wants him? Cas wants him, and his scent turns aroused, and Dean whines and shifts a little on the bed. “Please, Cas, I’ve wanted this before. This is not just my heat, I promise.”

 

But Cas still looks determined, shoulders set. “I can’t. I need to get out,” Cas presses, and his eyes are starting to shimmer alpha red as he backs off towards the door. “Someone will be watching over you, please just knock on the door if you need something. Anything. I want you to have everything you need.” 

 

He takes another step out of Dean’s reach, but seems to remember something and stops abruptly. “Dean, could I — Can I take off your collar? You won’t need it,” Cas mumbles, and when Dean nods and cranes his neck for him, Cas takes the collar off, careful and slow. He puts it down on the shelf next to him, takes one last, lingering look at Dean, and closes the door behind himself. 

 

And Dean is alone. In the prince’s room. The prince, who is also his truemate. His truemate, whose smell is all over this room, in the sheets, the pillows.

 

Dean knows he’s alone, and nobody can judge him for it, so he just dives right in and buries his face in the pillow closest to him, inhaling and inhaling until he can’t possibly get more of Cas’ scent into his lungs. 

 

So Cas wants this too, but won’t help Dean because — what? Because he thinks Dean’s heat makes him an unintelligent mess? Because he thinks just because Dean is heavily under the influence of his hormones and his omega is begging him to run after Cas, he can’t make rational decisions?

 

Dean really wants to work himself into a stage of rage, but instead his brain skitters back to the part where Cas said he wants him, wants to protect him.  _ Such a good alpha _ , his omega purrs, and then Dean starts to think about how Cas was breathing hard, how his whole body was tense all over, and he realizes that they weren’t the signs of Cas’ disgust, but rather the results of him trying to hold back. 

 

Dean starts purring then, and the noise rumbles through his whole body and reminds him very suddenly of how hard he is against Cas’ mattress.

 

He decides to stop thinking about this too much, and shuffles out of his shirt and pyjama bottoms to get comfortable on his back. He’s surrounded by nothing but Cas, even if he isn’t physically here, and that has to be enough for now. 

 

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, because he knows the faster he gets himself off now, the faster the cloud of lust will clear from his mind. He gets maybe an hour of lucidity and peace afterwards, before the effects of his heat take over again and he’ll be reduced to a leaking, moaning mess once again. 

 

So he just slips his hand down his stomach, over his leaking, rock-hard dick, and down towards where he’s already wet and ready. He slips a finger inside, then another one, then a third, and just starts riding down against them. 

 

God, how would Cas’ fingers feel inside him? They are a bit slimmer, longer, would probably be amazing when they stretch Dean open for Cas’ cock, would reach all the good places inside him easily.

 

Dean’s other hand wanders down to stroke his dick, fast and rough, as he imagines what noises Cas would make when he sinks into Dean. Dean hopes he’d be loud, groaning and panting his pleasure, telling Dean how well he’s taking him, how he can’t wait to knot Dean. Cas’ knot would be glorious, swollen and huge, stretching Dean so good, he’ll have trouble breathing.

 

Dean moans out loud, then, his fingers speeding up and fucking him harder, faster. “Yes,” he breathes, again and again. When he finally comes, hole clenching around his fingers, dick spurting come over his stomach, he moans a little too loud:  _ “Cas.” _

 

He thinks he hears someone whine in front of the door, but before he can even check, his tiredness takes over and he passes out, sated and happy for now. 

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean wakes up a few more times that first night, wet and hard and desperate. 

 

The next morning, he already feels a little better, though cold and dizziness still bother him. He’s about to get up to check out Cas’ bathroom when there’s a knock at the door.

 

“I don’t — I’m not decent!” he shouts as he scrambles out of bed and towards the bathroom, to hind behind the door. 

 

There’s a snort, and then the main door opens and a mop of red hair pokes in. “I’d come in anyway, if that’s alright with you?”

 

“Sure, yeah. Just. Just, maybe, cover your eyes and give me a few minutes?”

 

“No problem,” Charlie smiles as she steps inside, closes the door and turns her back to Dean to give him some privacy. “Are you alright, though? Can I help you?”

 

“God, no! I’ll manage, just need to clean up and put some clothes on,” he murmurs, face burning.

 

At first, he’s a little overwhelmed with how big and fancy Cas’ bathroom is, but after a bit of awkward fiddling, he manages to start the shower. Then he forgets about Charlie, about his heat, about everything but how awesome the burning hot water feels on his skin. 

 

He scans the shower and finds some shampoo, and when he squeezes it onto his palm, he feels like he might start crying. It smells so much like Cas, soapy and citrusy and so familiar, and at the same time it smells nothing like  _ Cas _ .

 

Dean takes his time lathering himself up in  _ almost-Cas _ , and when he climbs out of the shower he gets to wrap himself in fluffy soft towels, and it feels like heaven. He puts on two pairs of Cas’ underwear, and that feels very special, too. Then a pair of pants over it — because he’s still leaking slick, can’t help it with his heat and the whole room smelling like Cas and him

 

When he eventually comes back out, he greets Charlie with a lingering hug.

 

It’s a little ridiculous, but even the short touch makes his omega calm down a little, feel less alone.

 

“What are you doing here, anyway? Thought Cas said nobody’d get in.”

 

“Prince Castiel asked for me, specifically, mind you. Wanted me to check in on you, see if you need anything?” She looks a little worried, but smirks at him nonetheless. “You went to him last night, right? Instead of waking me up for help?”

 

“I, um. I did, yeah. He’s a good guy, I trust him — but he didn’t even touch me when I threw myself at him, said something about not wanting to do this when I’m in heat and all… pathetic.” Dean chuckles, but he knows how self-conscious he sounds.

 

“Ah, so that’s why he’s sitting out there plastered to the door frame, not leaving for a second?”

 

“Wait, he’s out there? He’s out there and he knows I need him, and he’s just fucking sitting around?”

 

“Oh no, Dean, he’s not just sitting around. He’s guarding you, growling at every person that passes by; alpha, beta or omega. It took him ten minutes to let me in here, and it was his own idea to have me check on you. He whined when I opened the door,” she grins. “He’s desperate for you. But he won’t touch you, because he doesn’t want to take advantage of you. That’s actually very sweet, if you ask me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m the one in here, alone and horny,” he sighs, and just as he says it, he feels his heat spike up again. “Shit, I think I need to… get back to it soon.”

 

Charlie just wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Yeah, I can smell that. Let me just get the food in here first. Fair warning, he ordered enough for seven people. But at least you won’t starve in your fancy chamber,” she says with a wink, and walks off to get the food. 

 

He hears some muffled talking while she’s out there, thinks he picks up on his name, but he’s only sure of one thing. The smell that wafts through the small gap in the door is nothing but  _ desperate, pining alpha _ . His first instinct is guilt, but then he realizes that he’s kind of proud. He loves to know that Cas really is out there, and that he’s struggling with this maybe just as hard as Dean is.

 

Charlie slides back in with a tray full of fruit and vegetables and a huge loaf of bread, cheese and meat and honey. There are even a few slices of pie on there, and Dean can’t help but smile at Cas’ thoughtfulness. Charlie puts the tray down and walks back out once more, returning with two jugs of water and an eye-roll.

 

“He says he wants you to finish both of them before I return tomorrow, something about hydration and staying safe, blablabla. I’m gonna leave you to it, now. See you tomorrow,” she says, and leaves with a wave.

 

Dean is slowly growing hard again, but his hunger is insistent enough to make him grab a few bites before he even tries to do something about his arousal.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


He manages to resist walking towards the door, towards Cas, for the whole rest of the day.

 

But when he wakes up again that night, needy and alone, he can’t help but rush to the door and sink down against it. Cas’ smell is incredibly strong here, thick just like honey, and Dean can’t help but rub his hand over he bulge in his pants, his head resting against the door. 

 

It’s the closest he’s been to Cas during all of this heat, and it makes both his body and his mind go crazy with eagerness. He slides down to the floor and slips his fingers beneath his pants, not bothering with his dick, instead going straight for his hole. He whines, low and desperate — and this time he’s sure he can hear Cas’ answering moan outside. 

 

“Mmmm, Cas,” he murmurs as he starts to tease himself with gentle brushes. “Feels so good... wish you were touching me.”

 

There’s a desperate whine, and then what sounds like Cas scratching on the door. 

 

“You’re feeling this too, right? You wanna be in here, too?” He’s the one whining now, his heat getting the best of him again. He’s hot and sweaty and he wants Cas to barge through this door and take him. It’s not even locked, all that’s holding Cas back is his own stupid determination.

 

Another whimper from outside, and then Cas groans: “So much, Dean.” But the door doesn’t open, not even a fraction, and all Dean hears is the thump of what he assumes must be Cas’ head hitting the door.

 

“Shit,” Dean breathes, and lets his fingers trace soft circles over his sensitive hole, wet and aching to be filled. Cas scent doesn’t make this frantic, dizzy arousal any better, but his muffled noises are what eventually makes Dean push two fingers into his leaking hole and start to search for his prostate. Cas is clearly enjoying this, too, and Dean has trouble breathing when Cas’ scent stops being anything but aroused and needy and ready. 

 

He fucks himself, rushed but steady, and moans out for Cas again. “I wish you’d come in here and just knot me,” he breathes, and pushes another finger inside, and another, a sad imitation of how Cas would stretch him. 

 

“I wouldn’t —” Cas breaks off with a pained little whine. “I would never _ just knot you _ . God, Dean, I’d open you up so good, until you’re dripping down your thighs and begging for me. I’d fuck you slow and deep, make you come before my knot is even swollen all the way, make you come again when I finally do knot you —” he breaks off again, breathing ragged and wild. 

 

Dean is right there with him, breathing hard as he pumps his fingers inside of himself and imagines. Imagines Cas on the other side of the door, jerking and tugging, his knot swelling more and more with every second. Imagines the picture Cas just painted, imagines Cas draped over him, going crazy while he fucks Dean, biting along his shoulder, his neck. 

 

He comes with that thought, with the phantom bite of Cas’ teeth on his neck, and whines through his orgasm, breathing in the overwhelming scent of honey and cedar as he comes hot all over his lower stomach and thighs.

 

It’s hard to focus on anything, but Dean manages to shuffle over close enough to the door that he can press his ear to it and listen to Cas’ stuttering breath, listen to the deep groan he makes when the air suddenly explodes with the best thing Dean has ever smelled. 

 

They lie like that for ages, just breathing, until Dean drifts off into sleep right there on the cold floor.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


The next three days go pretty much the same. Charlie visits him in the mornings, and now that Dean knows when to expect her, he takes showers and attempts to change or at least clean the sheets that don’t smell like Cas anymore anyway. 

 

Charlie spends more time with him, cuddles up with him in bed for a while, just to hold him and talk. When she leaves, not having Cas in here with him hurts even more. He craves warmth and contact and comfort, almost as much as he craves Cas’ knot. He wears his collar sometimes, when he needs Cas very badly.

 

At night, when Dean is mostly sure that Cas is out there alone, he walks over to the door and spends some time with him. They aren’t really talking, not more than _“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”_ , and breathy moans of each other’s names, and murmurs of _harder, please, so good for me_. But Dean is pretty sure he has never felt as high on hormones and arousal as he does when he’s with Cas, even with the door separating them.


	6. Gentle

When Dean pokes his head out of the door that night, for the first time in four days, and sees Cas for the first time since literally jumping him, he’s fresh out of the shower and in clothes he pulled from the back of Cas’ closet, ones that smell mostly like the wooden drawer and nothing like Dean’s heat. Dean’s also tired and lonely, and incredibly hungry. He leaves the collar on the shelf next to the door.

 

He’s pretty sure that it’s the middle of the night, but he didn’t expect Cas to be sitting perched up against the door frame, legs folded up, toes touching the other side of the frame. His head is tilted back against the wood, and he’s snoring softly, looking absolutely exhausted.

 

Dean opens the door a little wider and slides down next to Cas, watching the way his chest rises and falls, how soft his lips look where they are parted a little, his hands tangled in his lap. He looks and smells filthy, and it just reminds Dean once again that he hasn’t left this door in five days, just to keep Dean safe. 

 

Dean shuffles up closer to him, and hesitates a little before he lets his fingers wander. Over Cas’ arms, down to his hands, over thighs, careful and light so Cas won’t wake up. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, even like this; dirty and asleep and not trying at all — and Dean is yearning, for everything Cas is willing to give.

 

He can’t ignore the urge, so he runs his fingers over the rough stubble on Cas’ cheeks, down to his jaw, and up again to trace the tiny cracks on his chapped, pink lips. 

 

Cas startles awake with a particularly loud, and unfairly cute, snore, and stares right into Dean’s eyes. For a few seconds, Dean can feel Cas’ breath on his face, and they are so close that their noses are almost brushing against each other. But Cas shakes himself out of it very soon and turns away, breath labored and jaw set. If that’s anything to go by, Dean very much overestimated how well he scrubbed the scent of heat off his skin.

 

“Dean,” Cas says, voice raspy from sleep. “What are you doing out here?”

 

“I’m hungry. And pretty much out of my heat, so I thought it’d be okay to come talk to you.”

 

“Oh. Oh, of course,” Cas mumbles, but it seems to take him a bit to really understand what Dean said. “Hungry, of course! It’s very late, I think,” he says, face scrunched up and confused. “The staff will be asleep, but I can make you something.” Cas stands up from the floor, then, and winces a little when he straightens out his back, and Dean feels so bad he kind of wants to give Cas a back-rub — or maybe just kiss his sore muscles better. 

 

They walk towards the kitchen side by side, but once they reach it Dean stops dead in his tracks — because  _ wow _ . There are cabinets and cabinets of food, jars of all sizes, filled with all types of things. Dean is a little overwhelmed, but Cas confidently walks up to a cabinet and pulls down a jar. So Dean leaves him to it, and flops down to the floor instead.

 

He watches Cas, as he putters around the kitchen, grabs stuff and throws stuff and drops most of it in between. He barely manages not to stab himself in the foot when he drops a knife, and Dean has a very hard time holding back a snort. 

 

When Cas eventually sits down on the floor in front of Dean, he balances a plate filled with several slices of bread with honey and marmalade. The bread is slightly ripped where Cas was a little too rough while spreading the toppings with his knife, but he looks so proud of himself that the smile that makes its way onto Dean’s cheeks hurts a little.

 

“I hope you enjoy it,” he says, blushing up to his hairline.

 

“Thank you, Cas. I’m sure I will,” Dean says, and grabs a slice of bread to take a bite. There’s a happy little groan slipping out of his mouth at the rich, sweet taste, and he grins up at Cas while taking another, even bigger bite. “Come on, have dinner with me,” he says, and then Cas takes a slice and starts to eat, too.

 

They eat in silence, both very focused on not letting the honey on their bread drip down on their hands or laps. When they are mostly done, Cas is smiling so bright, and there’s a tiny smudge of strawberry marmalade on the corner of his lip, and Dean just tumbles forward to kiss it right off Cas’ mouth. 

 

It’s a bad excuse, really, but Dean’s been thinking about doing this for weeks, and Cas’ lips feel incredible beneath his. Cas isn’t pulling away, either, just makes a breathless sound before he carefully presses forward, too. 

 

It’s such a chaste, gentle kiss — such a contrast to the desperate nights they shared through Cas’ solid wooden door. Neither of them tries to deepen the kiss, they are content to just feel each other’s lips, to share air for a few lovely minutes. 

 

When Cas eventually leans back, he looks as dazed as Dean feels, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “That,” he clears his throat and tries again. “That was nice.”

 

Dean can’t help but laugh at that, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. “Yes, it was.” 

 

“So,” Cas mumbles as he grabs the plate and gets up to put it away. 

 

“So?”

 

“What now?”

 

And that’s a good question, because — what now? 

 

“I think you deserve a shower and a soft bed to sleep on,” Dean says, and as the words slip out, he realizes that he very desperately wants to just curl up next to Cas and sleep. Really sleep, without interruptions, for the first time in days. 

 

Cas looks a little hesitant, but eventually nods.

 

“I could join you, if you want?” Dean says, and Cas chokes on air behind him. 

 

“Dean, you just got out of heat, are you sure…” Cas trails off, and he looks unsure and a little scared, but very desperate to get into Dean’s personal space again at the same time.

 

“I just want to be close to you, to be honest. I’m as tired as you are, I’d just —” The words get stuck in his throat a little, because Dean has never been this open and honest with his feelings. Has never been any good at this. “I’d just like to be near you, sleep next to you. If you want to.”

 

“Yes, I want that very much,” Cas says, and he’s smiling pretty hard.

 

Dean blushes, and grabs Cas’ hand. “I also really need someone to show me how your shower works, to be honest. Scalding hot has been nice for a few minutes, but after a while it gets uncomfortable.”

 

Cas chuckles, deep and soft, and then he pulls Dean back towards his room again. “It’d be my pleasure.”

 

They don’t waste any time getting into the bathroom and starting the shower, but then Dean remembers the dirty sheets on Cas’ bed and excuses himself for a few minutes to quickly change them. He feels a lot better when he sees the bed afterwards, soft and clean and ready for Cas and him to bury themselves in there as soon as they are clean, too.

 

When he walks back into the bathroom, Cas is standing there, looking awkward. “I think the temperature is good now,” he mumbles, and scratches a little at the back of his neck.

 

“Well, then,” Dean says, and then he starts to pull his pullover over his head, followed by his shirt. 

 

Cas just watches, blinking and biting his lip, and takes in all of Dean as he slowly bares himself. It feels heavy, special, and definitely not like Cas has already seen Dean naked and on his hands and knees a few months ago. Twice. Cas looks at him with a reverence and appreciation Dean has never experienced, not like Dean’s just another piece of meat for him. He’s not taking this for granted, and he’s not expecting anything sexual out of this, and he looks so stunned that Dean feels his cheeks heat up at all the genuine, gentle attention.

 

Once Dean is completely naked in front of Cas, clothes in a pile on the floor, he looks up at Cas, who still hasn’t moved. “Not ready to get naked yet, alpha?”

 

Cas’ eyes flash that gorgeous alpha red, and he turns away a little, hands in fists at his sides. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Dean.”

 

“Do you want me to let you shower alone?” Dean asks, and the simple thought of leaving Cas, now that he’s finally close to him, spending time with him, it feels impossible.

 

“No.” Cas’ voice is loud, sure, and it echoes off the walls a little. “No, I want you here. Just — maybe don’t call me that?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, but he can’t make it sound very honest, not when it makes Cas’ eyes go read like that. He looks around the steamy room, and then back at Cas. “Do you want help getting out of your clothes?”

 

Cas clears his throat, and then sends Dean a very small, jerky nod. 

 

“Yeah?” Dean steps closer towards him, brings his hands up to the seam of Cas’ shirt. “This okay?”

 

Cas nods again, this time a little more sure, and when Dean’s hand brushes against his stomach beneath his shirt, his breath rushes out of him. He lets Dean pull his shirt off, lets him unbuckle his pants, but helps getting them off. Then his socks, his underwear. 

 

And then Cas is naked, too, and Dean thinks he can’t possibly take in all of Cas’ glory fast enough. Cas is strong, thick thighs and surprisingly muscular arms, but he’s slim, too, hip bones deliciously sharp. Dean feels his body’s reaction immediately, so he looks away before his eyes wander down to the truly intimate parts of Cas’ body. He’s too tired to start anything more right now, but he’s pretty sure Cas wouldn’t allow it anyway.

 

“Alright, come on,” he beckons Cas into the big shower with him, until they are both under the spray of warm water. 

 

The shower is big, but so are they — they are standing shoulder to shoulder, but they are still two grown men, squished into a space designed for one. 

 

Cas turns towards him anyway, and he looks happy, even though a little tired. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, and he sounds breathless.

 

“Of course.”

 

Cas takes another step forward, so they are standing chest to chest, brings his hand up to Dean’s jaw and kisses him. It’s a little less gentle and a bit more desperate than their kiss in the kitchen, but Dean can’t say he minds at all. It doesn’t take long until his back is being pressed against the cold tile wall of the shower, and Cas is all he can see and taste and smell. And it’s glorious.

 

After a while of trading kisses and soft kitten licks, Cas steps back a little. He grabs a bottle of shampoo from the side of the shower, and squirts some of it into his palm. “Can I? he asks, as he points at Dean’s head with his shampoo-dripping hand.

 

Dean just closes his eyes, turns around, and lets his head fall back towards Cas, and then he gets lost in the sensation of Cas’ gentle hands in his hair, massaging and drawing circles and brushing down Dean’s neck. 

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


“Hey, Cas?” Dean murmurs into the quiet darkness of the room.

 

“Hm?” He feels Cas arms tighten around him a little, his breath hot against the back of Dean’s neck.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asks, and his breath hitches in his throat. Because now, with nothing else distracting him but his own tiredness, all he can think about is Cas’ scent.

 

“Tell you wha’?”

 

It takes a bit for Dean to get the words out there in the open, because it still hurts a little. “That we’re truemates.”

 

“I wasn’t —” Cas stirs a little, takes a deep breath, and then he sounds much more awake. “Dean, I didn’t want you to think I’m trying to manipulate you. I didn’t want you to feel like there’s no other way than to be with me, just because of our biology. I was also scared that you’d think that was the only reason I care about you.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is rough, and he sounds hurt. “Yes, the initial reason why I picked you and saved you from the rest of my family was your scent. But I would have been okay with you not wanting to spend time with me at all.”

 

“And then I did.”

 

“And then you did. And I fell for you so quickly, I didn’t know what to do.”

 

It should be a big thing, Cas’ soft confession against the skin of Dean’s neck — but it feels true, fitting, inevitable. Dean knows he’s in love with Cas, too, has realized it weeks ago. But he hadn’t really expected it the other way around. Had never expected Cas to have more than protective feelings for him, for whatever reason. Had never expected to be in love. With Cas — a prince, of all things.

 

He turns around in Cas’ arms, careful not to hurt him with elbows or knees, and once he’s nose to nose with him, he leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

 

“I think I love you,” he murmurs against gentle, chapped lips. 

 

He feels the breath rush out of Cas’ mouth, and then Cas’ arms wrap around him again and the kiss he gets feels a lot like the first strawberry-kiss they shared earlier.

 

“Me too.”

 

They spend a few more minutes trading lazy, soft kisses, the air between them thick with emotion, before they eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reminder that there's a [rebloggable post](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/post/180462693194/the-most-noble-rating-explicit-word-count-31k) for this story on Tumblr :')


	7. Blissful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it finally truly begins >:)

When Dean wakes up the next morning, he feels absolute bliss. 

 

He’s sure he’s never felt this content, and he basks in the warmth of Cas’ touch for a little while longer before admitting to himself that he’s awake. Until the tiny, lazy whirlwind of arousal deep down in his stomach starts to grow. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know why. First of all, there’s the smell, the deliciously sweet mixture of Cas’ honey and wood and Dean’s soft scent of violets and spring. Then there’s Cas, wrapped around him, half on top of him. And most importantly, there’s Cas’ cock, unmistakably hard against Dean’s thigh.

 

Cas must still be asleep, but he’s slowly moving, tiny little rolls of his hips against Dean — and Dean grows needier, grows slicker, with every move Cas makes against him.

 

He whines a little, and turns so his face is buried in Cas’ neck, and then he just breathes. Cas smells peaceful and happy and horny and desperate, and he whimpers in his sleep.

 

Dean lets his hand wander down Cas’ chest, to his stomach, just shy from actually touching him where he presses into Dean’s thigh. 

 

But he can’t do this without Cas, so he lifts his head and presses soft kisses against Cas’ lips and cheeks and nose, until Cas lazily blinks his eyes open. “Dean?” he mumbles, and Dean’s heart beats in his chest like it might just jump out any second.

 

“Hey, Cas,” he says against Cas’ lips, and presses another soft kiss against them.

 

Cas looks a little confused and still very sleepy, so Dean helps him understand what’s going on by shifting his thigh, rubbing up against Cas.

 

Cas chokes on a breath, and his hips jump a little. “Fuck”, he breathes, and Dean takes that as his cue to continue. His hand finally, finally slips down to where he’s wanted it ever since feeling Cas hard against him, still only touching through Cas’ pyjama pants. 

 

He really kisses Cas then, for the first time today, and the heat and want that seeps from both of their lips has Dean breathless in seconds. “Cas,” he murmurs, lips barely parting from Cas’, hand starting to carefully move over Cas’ dick. Just feeling him, heavy in Dean’s hand, hot even through the fabric. “I need you.”

 

“God, Dean — me too,” Cas says, shivering beneath Dean’s hands. “Can I touch you?”

 

It’s a ridiculous question, really, because what else would Dean ever say but: “Of course, Cas.”

 

Cas surges forward and kisses him with new fervor, pressing Dean into the mattress in the process. And then he finally touches Dean, too. His hands are gentle and careful, but they are also everywhere, and Dean is burning with desire before they even reach the skin beneath his shirt.

 

Dean’s free hand weaves into Cas’ messy hair, pulls a little when Cas’ lips move lower and start to press against his neck, his scent glands. His other hand is firmly wrapped around Cas’ dick, stroking a little. “Cas,” he whines. “Cas, I want you out of your clothes. Please.”

 

Cas sits up and moves from between Dean’s knees, pulls his shirt up over his head and smiles at Dean’s keening noises, the way he can’t help but reach up immediately and let his fingers graze over Cas’ chest. “You too,” he says, and leans back down to pull at the hem of Dean’s shirt.

 

Dean complies gladly, shimmies out of his shirt with Cas’ help, and slips his thumbs into the waistband of his pants afterwards. They’re already a little slick, and he’s happy to get out of them and skin-to-skin with Cas as soon as possible.

 

Cas watches with wide eyes and his lower lip between his teeth as Dean slowly pulls his pants down, up over his hard cock and down his thighs, where he gracelessly kicks them off. He raises his eyebrow at Cas, and reaches down to wrap his hand around his own flushed red dick.

 

Cas struggles a little with his pants, but he’s naked and back in Dean’s space in seconds, hands wandering over thighs and waist and ribs. 

 

Dean takes a shuddering breath, and then he pulls Cas’ hips down against his own and their cocks rub against each other for the first time, and Dean wants to scream his happiness. “Oh god, Cas,” he breathes, and buries his nose in Cas’ neck once again, breathes in  _ aroused  _ and  _ happy  _ and  _ mate _ . 

 

Cas ruts down against him, and his breathing is heavy already. “Dean?” he asks into Dean’s shoulder. “Can I taste you, please?”

 

Dean can’t breathe, and he can’t answer, so he just frantically nods and hopes Cas gets the message. 

 

It seems he does, because he presses another kiss to Dean’s cheek and starts to move down, nosing against Dean’s stomach, leaving soft kisses on his way. He breathes in deep against Dean’s soft skin, holds his breath a little too long, and lets it rush back out in a warm puff that makes Dean shake a little.

 

Dean’s thigh gets special attention, as Cas kisses and licks and sucks a little. Just as Dean wishes that he’d do it harder, that he’d leave a mark for later, Cas bites down.

 

“Cas,” Dean moans, and he can’t help the full body shudder that rips through him at the first touch of Cas’ lips to the head of his dick. Cas groan rumbles through Dean like an earthquake, makes him shudder and buck up into Cas’ wet, warm, soft mouth.

 

Cas takes it slow, starts licking Dean’s tip, spends ages peppering open-mouthed kisses to his length, his balls. 

 

Dean aches for him to go lower, to dip down beneath his balls and slide his tongue over where Dean is pulsing and wet, leaking onto the sheets. 

 

As much as he wishes, though, Cas keeps to his rock-hard dick. He sucks and brings his hand down to jerk Dean where he’s not surrounded by Cas’ hot mouth, and Dean buries his hands in Cas’ hair and whines for more, head thrown back against the pillows.

 

Cas pulls off a little, then, and makes a soft, delighted noise when he watches as Dean’s dick leaks precome. He licks it off with a blissful little smile, and then he finally moves down lower. 

 

He’s breathing hard, and he hesitates a little, down between Dean’s legs — until Dean’s frantic  _ please, please, please  _ seems to persuade him. 

 

His tongue shoots out and swipes over Dean, through his slick, and Dean’s hips jump up even as his hands spasm and bury in the bed sheets beneath him. He’s burning, going up in flames, for Cas.

 

Cas’ tongue is hot on Dean’s hole, licking around him, kissing him, moaning at the taste of Dean’s arousal. 

 

Dean has been close to the edge for a while, but when Cas pushes his tongue inside of him and his hand, still warm and sure, wraps around Dean’s dick, he struggles to breathe.

 

This feels unreal, impossible, and all Dean wants to do is never wake up from this dream. Never have to leave Cas’ arms.

 

Dean’s fingers weave back into Cas’ hair, pull and jerk as he shakes with pleasure. His body can’t seem to decide what it wants more, so it alternates between pushing up into Cas’ warm grip and riding back down onto his incredible tongue. 

 

When Cas gives a particularly nice twist and tightens his fingers beneath the head of Dean’s cock, Dean can’t hold back anymore. He comes, hard and in thick white ropes, all over his stomach. His breath punches out of him in an unintelligible whine that must be  _ Cas _ , can’t be anything but  _ Cas _ .

 

Black and white little dots dance in his vision, and it takes a while for his breath to return, for his fingers to uncramp in Cas’ wild locks.

 

“Cas,” he murmurs. “Sorry. Sorry, that was intense.” He pulls his fingers from Cas hair, lets them wander over Cas’ flushed, stubbled cheeks. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

 

Cas looks a little dazed, but then he turns and laughs against Dean’s thigh, and Dean shudders all over again.

 

“I lost control, a little.”

 

“Dean, I’m more than okay. Are you?”

 

“God yeah,” he smiles, and then he pulls at Cas’ shoulders until he’s close enough for another kiss. Dean tastes himself on Cas’ lips, and it makes his brain sizzle a little. “Cas, what do you want? What can I do for you?”

 

“Just — just touch me?”

 

Dean grins against his lips, and he’s glad he got to wind down a little after his orgasm, because now he’s gathered enough strength to flip them over and straddle Cas’ thighs.

 

The come on his stomach is drying, and he flushes a little when he realizes that he’s spreading his slick on Cas thighs — but Cas is throwing his head back, biting his lip, and squeezing Dean’s thighs with his fingers. He looks both a little lost, and like he’s right where he wants to be.

 

He moans, thrusts up into nothing, and jostles Dean into action. Dean realizes that he hadn’t even allowed himself to really look at Cas, so he takes his fill now.

 

Cas’ cock is gorgeous, long and deliciously thick, and already dripping precome for Dean. Dean has to fight a cloud of foggy arousal to notices that the base of Cas’ dick is red and slightly swollen, showing where his knot will grow to full size soon. 

 

Dean wraps his hand around Cas, reverent and careful, and starts to stroke him. Cas whines, grinds up into Dean’s grip, and he both looks and smells  _ so _ desperate. 

 

When Dean wraps the fingers of his other hand around Cas’ knot, squeezes a little and rubs against it, Cas leaks so much for him that Dean can’t hold back.

 

He leans down, swipes the flat of his tongue over Cas’ slit, moves back in to let it wander around the head. When he wraps his lips around it and starts to suck a little, hand massaging Cas’ growing knot, he can already tell that it won’t take much longer.

 

Cas feels incredible against his tongue, hot and smooth and pulsing, and he tastes even better. Dean doesn’t have the words to describe it, but it’s the best thing he ever tasted — woodsy and intense and like so much pleasure, it makes Dean’s mouth water.

 

He looks back up at Cas and sucks a little harder, and Cas’ eyes burn alpha red when his hands fist the sheets, his knot swells to its full size and he starts to come. He bucks up into Dean’s mouth once, twice, careful not to hurt Dean or go too far even in his blinding bliss.

 

Dean has no chance catching all of Cas’ come, it’s covering his lips and dripping down a little over his chin, but he really doesn’t mind.

 

Cas’ knot is hard and  _ big _ , and Dean can’t help but be a little sad that it’s not in him right now — stretching him, stuffing him full, marking him Cas’. 

 

As soon as Cas manages to open his eyes, still glowing a little red, he looks down at Dean and groans low and raspy. “Fuck,” he breathes, and doesn’t add more, just watches in awe. 

 

His hand comes down to Dean’s lip and gathers a little of his own come. Before Cas can pull away, though, Dean sucks it into his mouth and cleans it for him.

 

Cas’ breath catches again, and he pulls Dean up until their lips crash together and Cas can kiss him hot and hard and deep. 

 

Dean melts into him, forgets about the fact that he’s covered in come from head to stomach, forgets about where Cas’ mouth has been before, were his own has been, forgets about everything but how Cas tastes and feels. 

 

They both get lost in the kiss, until Cas carefully pulls back to go and grab a damp, warm towel to wipe them both clean. When he’s done, he throws it off the bed and crawls back into Dean’s arm. 

 

The last thing Dean thinks before falling asleep wrapped around Cas, is that they are lucky nobody has come to look for Cas.


	8. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, just wanna.... just. Sorry *awkward, pained smile*
> 
> THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT CONTAINS VIOLENCE, SO PLEASE BE AWARE OF THAT. DEAN WILL THROW SOME PUNCHES.

When Dean wakes up for the second time that day, he’s cold, and disgruntled, and a little disoriented. 

 

He can’t feel Cas, can’t smell him except for the distant traces of his scent that are still lingering in the sheets — and when Dean rolls over, he finds himself alone, and the other side of the bed cold. He stays wrapped up in his own warm sheets, waits for Cas to maybe come back and snuggle up with him again just a little while longer — but when that doesn’t happen for ages, he reluctantly gets out of bed and takes a quick shower. 

 

He knows it’s ridiculous to be this disappointed about Cas leaving him so soon, he knows that Cas has responsibilities and is probably needed somewhere in the castle. He just hoped they’d get a little more time together, after… after their first time together. 

 

It hurts a little to wash Cas’ scent off of himself, so he doesn’t scrub too hard and uses a lot of Cas’ familiar shampoo to compensate. 

 

Once he’s done, he hastily puts on some of Cas’ softest, most comfortable clothes. He hesitates a little before putting on his collar, but in the end he finds it weirdly comforting. If he can’t wear Cas’ marks or even his scent, at least he can wear his collar.

 

He decides to go looking for Charlie, for some company, and trails through the hallways, still a little lost in the quarters of the royals. He doesn’t feel so well when he rounds the next corner, something dark squirming and jumping in his stomach, but he doesn’t realize why until the moment he walks into a solid, warm wall. Until he smells it. Alastair.

 

His brain gets a little stuck when the awful scent floods his senses, and so do his legs and arms, so when Alastair grabs him and shoves him back against the cold stone wall, he can’t say he’s surprised he’s going down that easily. 

 

Alastair beams, a wide and spiteful thing, and presses Dean’s forearms back against the wall, his hands squeezing tight enough to leave bruises. He leans forward, presses his nose against Dean’s neck, and Dean feels sick. When his tongue shoots out for a taste, Dean jerks backwards, tries to get his hands free, but fails miserably. 

 

Alastair pulls back with a disgusted noise and pushes against Dean again, hard enough that it knocks the breath out of his chest. “So I see he did eventually fuck you, did he? You stink like him.”

 

Dean growls, low and furious, but doesn’t say a thing.

 

“Talks a big talk about treating you whores like people, and then he goes and does the same thing to you I would have done.” He breaks off with a rough, too loud laugh, little droplets of spit hitting Dean’s face. “At least he realized you’re only good for one thing.”

 

Dean tried, he really did, but he can’t stay quiet any longer. “Fuck you,” he spits, and then shoves forward hard. He manages to knock Alastair off balance a little, and shoves again.

 

Alastair stumbles, hands still holding Dean’s arms back, so Dean starts to kick, as hard as he can, until Alastair’s legs finally give in and he falls back into the hallway with an angry growl. 

 

“Fuck you,” Dean shouts again, and then he throws the first punch. It’s so satisfying, the way Dean’s fist hits Alastair’s jaw with a loud crack, even more so when Alastair doesn’t react at first, is too perplexed at Dean’s resistance to do anything but stare. 

 

His hands shoot up to his jaw, and his face twists in anger, eyes bleeding a horribly bright red. “You little bitch,” he spits. “You’re gonna regret that.” 

 

He throws himself at Dean, fists first, but Dean reacts in the last possible second and ducks out of the way. As soon as Alastair hits the wall, Dean pushes up against him from behind, grabs his hands and twists them behind his back. 

 

This is the only good thing his dad ever taught him; how to fight like an alpha. 

 

Dean gives Alastair a shove, face into the wall, and stands up a little straighter to murmur into his ear. “You are never going to fucking touch me again, do you understand?”

 

Alastair just laughs, so Dean gives him another shove, abrupt enough that his head hits cold stone with a thud. It’s so satisfying, so nice to finally get to do this, and to know that whatever he does now, Cas is on his side, Cas hates Alastair as much as Dean does — it’s hard not to beat him to a bloody mess. “Do you understand?” he repeats, knee pressing into the back of Alastair’s leg.

 

“You’re gonna regret this, I swear. Feeling like you’re important, just because the Prince fucked you once? You are scum, you don’t mean anything. Not to me, not to him, not to anyone. And you will never threaten someone like me without feeling the consequences, that’s for sure. You’ll see how much your Prince thinks of you once he hears about this. He might just lend you to me for a few hours, as an excuse for this.”

 

That’s enough, too much, and Dean sees red. He twists Alastair around and throws him back once more, and then he throws his last punch, with as much force as he can muster. He hits Alastair square in the face, and his nose breaks with a disgusting crack, blood shooting out and over his lips.

 

Alastair screams in pain and falls to his knees, and Dean doesn’t even send him another look, just turns around and walks away.

 

He knows he will have to deal with the consequences eventually, but that’s for later. For now, he’s gotta get out of here, somewhere safe, to Charlie. He hurries down the hallways, corner for corner, until he’s finally in front of their room.

 

That’s where he finds Charlie, spread out on her bed and staring at the ceiling, and the adrenalin that helped Dean through this leaves him in seconds. He barely holds back a sob of relief now that he’s safe, but then he realizes what he just did, that Alastair’s words hold truth, and sags against the doorframe with shaking hands.

 

Cas didn’t actually fuck him, but they got each other off. Dean made him feel good, made him come, like a good concubine should — and then Cas left him alone in a cold bed, like one does with a concubine. 

 

A quiet little voice in the back of his mind screams at him, shouts about how different Cas is, that he told Dean he’s falling for him, that he would never do something like that. That Dean’s important to him.

 

But the bigger part of his brain shouts right back, about how this feels a lot like back when Cas left Dean alone for his heat, when he needed him most.

 

Dean thought he knew where this was going, thought Cas’ gentle smiles and soft touches and quiet confessions were real. He’s not so sure right now. He can’t bring himself to even think about the possibility of Cas having lied to him, having lead him on just to get him into bed, to get him to do his goddamn job as a concubine.

 

It’s happened before, back when Dean was still living with his father and hoping that maybe Aaron was being genuine, that maybe he did love Dean, that he actually wanted to leave with Dean and build a better life for them. It ended in horrible heartbreak, one Dean couldn’t even talk about or show, because if he’d been weak on top of being omega, he isn’t sure what his father would have done to him.

 

Cas isn’t Aaron, though. Cas isn’t just another knothead. He’s soft and honest and passionate and loving, and he’s shown Dean again and again that he cares about him. 

 

But Cas is still a prince, he’s of high rank, he’s alpha, has money and power and a reputation. 

 

And Dean is just the omega son of a drunk, with nothing to his name.

 

So what if Cas only wants him like this? As a concubine, working for the king, until he gets bored of Dean?

 

Dean has worked himself up into a nauseating, dark mood in what could have only been a few minutes, and he’s trembling a little, his eyes feeling wet. He’s so goddamn scared, because he doesn’t think he could live like that — he doesn’t — 

 

He pushes off the door frame and into the room, has to interrupt these awful thoughts. And the best interruption he could possibly have is Charlie.

 

“Hey,” he says, and she looks up at him with a happy smile.

 

“Dean! You made it through.” She grins, and scoots over on her small bed to make room for Dean. 

 

“Can I — Could you, um, would you hold me?”

 

“Sure, of course! Come on in here,” she says as she spreads her arms, warm and loving and generally just the best person Dean has ever known. 

 

Dean can’t look into her eyes, because he knows she’d see his hurt, his confusion — so he just falls into her arms and buries his face in bright hair, hopes she won’t catch all of his feelings in his scent too soon.

 

“Dean?” It’s soft, carefully said against his sternum. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Are you alright?” She sounds as choked as Dean feels, and he presses his eyes closed to fight back tears. “Dean, did he touch you? Did he hurt you? I don’t care who he is, I will kill him.”

 

“No, he —” he stops, clears his throat, tries again. “He was so good, Charlie. But last night, I kissed him. And today, well, we woke up next to each other and… things happened.”

 

“Did he do anything you didn’t —”

 

“No! God no, I wanted it. So bad. But we fell back asleep afterwards, and I thought we’d get to bask in it a little longer, y’know? But when I woke up, he was gone. I couldn’t find him anywhere. Instead I — Instead I found Alastair.”

 

“What? Wait, did  _ he  _ touch you? I haven’t had to deal with him yet, thank goodness,  but I’ve… I’ve heard enough stories. Dean, what did he do?”

 

“It’s not been the first time. He, um. He said some shit to make me feel bad, but I — I was the one hurting him.”

 

Her breath rushes out of her in relief. “Good. Oh Dean, that’s good. What did he say?”

 

“Just — just some bullshit about Cas. It’s alright. I know Cas has important business to do, but I —” His body betrays him again, voice trembling pathetically. “I’m being ridiculous. I just miss my — I just miss him. I just wanna know why he left, if he’s done with me now.”

 

“Hey, it’s okay, Dean,” Charlie whispers, and squeezes him impossibly thighter. “It’s hard, having to leave afterwards. Or being left, of course. I’m sure he isn’t feeling good about this either.”

 

“It hurts, Charlie.”

 

“I know. But I’m sure Castiel has a good reason for being away, just try not to worry too much for now. I’m so very sure he wouldn’t have left you if he didn’t truly have to be somewhere.”

 

“I’m not —”

 

“He’s a good guy, you said so yourself. He’s gonna come looking for you soon. And until then, I’ll be here,” she says, sure and determined.

 

“Thank you,” Dean murmurs, and squeezes right back.

 

Dean’s chest is still spasming and his fingers feel numb, but Charlie’s warmth and comforting smell make it better, slowly make the last traces of Alastair’s scent vanish and the scared voice in his head quiet down. 

 

They spend a long time like that, just breathing and being close. 

 

But it gets late, and their stomachs start to growl at some point. Charlie’s starts first, but she doesn’t budge, just snuggles closer to Dean and waits for him to decide whether he wants to get out of bed or not.

 

They get food eventually, but when Dean doesn’t see Cas on their way there, either, he loses his appetite and the food tastes bland. 

 

Afterwards, he pulls Charlie into a big hug, mumbles a thank you, and leaves her to trail through the hallways again. He can’t find Cas in their room, the dining room, the library, or even the kitchen — buzzing with noise and people now — so he eventually gives up looking. 

 

He walks back to his room, and slips beneath a blanket that smells old and weird and not like Cas at all.

 

This is how he spends the rest of his evening, moping and pulling the blanket down every now and then. He can’t help doing it, pushing away his blanket and pants to throw glances at Cas’ bite-mark on his thigh, make sure it’s still there, even though every look, every reminder, hurts a little more. 

 

He’s glad when his thoughts finally stop spiraling and he feels himself drift off to sleep.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean wakes up the next morning, and he’s cold and lonely again, something heavy pulling at his heart. He tries to shake it off, tells himself that he’ll see his alpha again today, but it doesn’t help much.

 

So he has breakfast with Charlie, can’t help but stay by her side for a bit, sit a little too close, and soak in her comforting warmth.

 

Once he had some bread and eggs, he grabs a book and wanders off to his and Cas’ room. He tries not to wait for Cas, tries to get lost in a new story, but his mind is drifting off, and he finds himself having to reread every third sentence — so he gives up. 

 

He wanders through the room a bit, inspects the wallpaper and pillows, but eventually just goes back to spreading out on the bed and sighing into the blankets. They smells a little of himself, and a little of Cas, still covered by soap and citrus. He falls into it, just breathes and thinks.

 

He doesn’t hear when the door opens behind him, only realizes he’s not alone anymore when the bed dips beside him. He shoots up into an upright position, blinking against the blurry wetness of his eyes.

 

He’s not scared, though, because his body immediately recognized Cas’ scent, is soothed by it and wants to crawl closer even though his head tries to fight it. Instead, he feels embarrassed about being caught like this, small and teary-eyed and weak.

 

Cas sits on the bed, more than an arm’s length away from Dean, and he doesn’t look into his eyes at all. “Hello, Dean.”


	9. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it gets better!!! The boys are using their words!!!!

“Cas,” Dean says, and it sounds shaky.

 

“How are you?” 

 

Dean scoffs, because Cas has never sounded more distant, less interested. It hurts, especially when Dean thinks about how gentle he’d been just yesterday. “Just peachy, what do you think?”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Cas whispers, and then jerks back up and walks towards the door.

 

“What, you gonna leave me again?” Dean spits, his voice as cold as his chest feels.

 

Cas freezes, hand poised on the doorknob, shoulders squared. Dean thinks maybe that’s it, he made Cas mad, but he can’t even feel bad about it. Maybe Cas will scream at him, but at least that means he will show emotion. At least then Dean will know what Cas is thinking. 

 

But then he hears a heart-wrenching little sob instead, and Cas entire form starts to shake.

 

“Cas?” he asks, and gets up to slowly step a little closer.

 

“I’m,” Cas starts, low and choked. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I promised you. I swore I’d never —” he stops, but the painful quietness is soon interrupted by the sudden sound of Cas’ fist hitting the solid wooden door in a dull thud. He smells devastated and furious and scared, and Dean has no idea what to do or say. “God, I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

 

“Cas,” Dean tries again, steps forward, into Cas’ personal space. “Cas, what are you talking about?” 

 

“I forced myself on you,” Cas says, and it sounds like it’s coming through clenched teeth. “I hurt you. I promised I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to, and then I go and immediately lose control and fucking force you to —” 

 

“Cas —”

 

“I can give you up. Right now,” he pushes, and Dean’s heart stops. “Maybe my sister will take you in as a concubine, I’ll have her promise that she won’t touch you. She’ll do a much better job than me. You won’t have to see me again, I promise you, Dean. I swear, I’ll never —”

 

“Cas,  _ please  _ shut up and look at me!” Dean presses. He has to wait endless minutes, nails pressing into his palms to stop his hands from shaking, until Cas finally turns around. He’s pale, still trembling, eyes big and terrified. Dean takes another step towards him, presses even closer when Cas backs away. “You wanna know what actually hurt me? When you left me alone in bed, after we had what was without a doubt the best sex of my life. I got to be with the man I’ve been wanting for weeks, maybe months. The man I love. And then he leaves. Again.” His voice only breaks once, right at the end of his sentence, but he’s proud about getting it all out there this well, anyway.

 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, and he looks broken. “Dean, I didn’t — Did I not —”

 

“No. No, you did not. I wanted this, badly. And I’m pretty sure I said so several times that morning,” Dean says, and there’s something like desperate humor in his voice.

 

“Dean,” Cas stumbles a little, takes an unsteady step forward until they are almost nose-to-nose. “Dean, I’d hate myself if —”

 

“You don’t have to, though. Cas, I wanted you. I still want you. I can’t imagine ever not wanting you. Please stop. Tell me why you left me, instead.”

 

“I woke up, and you were — you were turned away from me and I was holding you close and I — We were both still half asleep when we had sex, and I wasn’t sure — God, I was so scared I had hurt you. I couldn’t lie there and wait for you to wake up and tell me that you hate me.”

 

“You left, because you thought… What, that I’d wake up and scream? Kick you out of bed?”

 

“I wanted you to be free to leave without — feeling like you owe me anything.”

 

“God, you’re so clever, usually, but sometimes… sometimes you’re really dumb,” Dean sighs, and then he finally closes the remaining distance between them and wraps his arms around Cas’ middle.

 

They both sink into each other, then, relief visible in the way their expressions go a little softer and the tension leaves their bodies, but also thick in the air.

 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs into his hair, then moves down to breathe in deep against Dean’s neck. He falters a little, definitely smelling a lot of Charlie all over him. “I missed you.”

 

Dean laughs, a small hysteric thing against Cas’ shoulder. “Me too, alpha. Please just — please don’t do that again without talking to me.” 

 

Cas whines a little, wiggles even closer. “I won’t,” he whispers, and his hands finally come up to wrap around Dean’s back. “I won’t, I promise.”

 

They stay like this, wrapped around each other, just breathing and healing a little through the gentle contact — until the sour, unsure notes finally leave their scents.

 

“So you, um. You still want me?” Dean asks, and he’s so glad his bright red face is buried in Cas’ neck. 

 

“Dean, I don’t think I could ever not want you, either.”

 

“As a concubine?” He has to get it all out there, has to get a definite answer.

 

“What?” Cas asks, and it’s both louder and angrier than anything he’s said today. His arms fall from Dean as he takes a step back, eyes fixed on Dean’s face.

 

It’s even harder to say it like that, so Dean stays quiet, face in flames and eyes flickering over Cas’ face and his shoulders, not daring to stay anywhere for too long.

 

“Dean, what are you talking about?” he asks again, and he sounds so confused that Dean just has to answer.

 

He looks at the floor, though, instead of meeting Cas’ eyes. “I ran into Alastair yesterday, while I was looking for you —” There’s a low growl, and suddenly the air smells like burning honey, like ashes. “He, um. He said some things, made me think. What do you want me for, anyway?”

 

“Look at me,” Cas growls, and it’s just enough alpha voice that Dean can’t help but raise his head and look into Cas’ eyes. “Dean. I’ve been saying this from the very beginning. I don’t want you as a concubine. I want you as my lover, I want you as my partner, my equal. I already have a hard time not thinking about how it would be to wear your mark on my neck, to have you as my omega, my husband, my mate. I want you as _anything but_ a concubine. _Everything_ _but_.”

 

There’s an embarrassing sound getting stuck in Dean’s throat, something between a sob and a whine and a rushed exhale, and then Dean throws himself at Cas. 

 

It’s rare for alphas to wear their omegas’ bites, since the alpha is the one who needs to mark the omega to form a blood bond between them. Dean has only ever heard of a few people doing it, but suddenly all he can imagine is Cas’ long, beautiful neck, marked by Dean’s bite. Cas, showing everyone that he’s Dean’s just as much as Dean is his.

 

Dean lands with his legs wrapped around Cas’ waist and his arms wrapped around Cas’ neck, and starts to cover his face with little kisses and choked murmurs of  _ me too _ . He feels a little bad when he realizes that their momentum drove Cas back-first into the wall next to the door, but then Cas captures his lips and kisses him, and Dean’s head fills with a sweet fog that makes him forget about everything else.

 

Soft lips, even softer tongue, and this mind-blowing taste of a home Dean never dared to hope for — of everything perfect, everything Dean could ever want.

 

Cas devours him, or maybe Dean devours Cas — it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Cas walks them back towards their bed, only breaks away from Dean’s kiss-swollen lips for a few seconds to carefully sit down on the edge of the bed and to make sure that Dean’s comfortable in his lap, and then moves right back into the kiss.

 

They both lose themselves in this kiss, urgent and emotional and a day overdue. 

 

But Dean breaks away after a while, a thought pushing to the front of his mind. “Cas?” he murmurs against his lips. “Cas, you know I want this, yeah?”

 

Cas snorts against Dean’s cheek, broad warm hands stoking up and down Dean’s sides. “Yeah. Yeah, I know now. Thank you.”

 

“Please don’t do that again. I know how to say  _ no, _ when I’m allowed to. I’m not weak, or unable to defend myself, not as scared as I was when I first got here. Not trying to make you feel bad, but I could easily kick your ass.”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” Cas says, and the smile on his face is soft and adoring. “I’ll trust in that, from now on.”

 

“And while we’re on the topic of kicking ass… I think I broke Alastair’s nose, earlier. He was furious, telling me about the consequences I’ll have to deal with.”

 

He looks up at Cas, and finds him looking worried again. “Wait. We need to talk about this — did he hurt you? Dean, are you alright?” 

 

Dean can’t help but laugh, thinking back to Charlie asking the same questions about Cas just yesterday. “He tried, but didn’t succeed. I’m fine, no need to worry.”

 

“This isn’t funny to me at all, Dean. Are you sure he didn’t—”

 

“No, but he took a few hits.” 

 

Cas is still looking worried, though he’s also very obviously trying to fight a proud little smile. He presses a short kiss to Dean’s lips. “Good. I thought I’d gotten rid of him when I made him join the guards keeping lookout outside the castle, but… He touched you again, that means he’ll leave. He won’t set foot in this castle ever again.”

 

“That’s good. Thank you,” Dean breathes. “For caring about me.”

 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs, hands coming up to frame Dean’s face. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

Dean smiles, takes a deep breath and then says: “Good. Now kiss me, please. Or I’ll have to show you how good I am at kicking ass.” They meet in a silly kiss, full of smiles and laughter and clashing teeth. 

 

“Take off my collar, alpha,” he murmurs against Cas’ lips. “I want you to leave different marks on my neck instead.”

 

Cas stops in the middle of the kiss he’s currently pressing to Dean’s shoulder and muffles a desperate little howl against it instead. “Dean,” he breathes, and makes his way back up to Dean’s mouth with hot, open-mouthed kisses. His hands are blindly fumbling with the collar while he kisses Dean, but when the collar finally slips off and lands in Dean’s lap, he pulls back and looks into Dean’s eyes, his own eyes a delicious swirl of ocean blue and alpha red. “Dean, what do you want?”

 

“You,” Dean says, hand wandering down Cas’ chest to rest on where he’s growing hard in his pants.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, baby. Very. If it were me deciding this, I’d wanna wear your bite in a few hours.”

 

“Fuck,” Cas breathes through clenched teeth, and then again when Dean starts to grind down against him. “Dean —”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Dean, we gotta stop.”

 

Dean pulls back a little, fingers growing cold again. “What?”

 

“We can’t do this here. This is where we first met, where Alastair — this is where you thought I’d — I can’t, Dean. Not in here.”

 

“Take me back to your room, then,” Dean whispers, and crawls out of Cas’ lap. He grabs his hand and pulls him up, too, and Cas smiles when he ducks down to leave a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Oh my god, Cas,” Dean groans. He looks down with a pointed look and, very unashamedly, readjusts his hard cock in his pants before he pulls Cas out through the door and into the hallway without another word.

 

Cas is hurrying behind him, soft chuckles in perfect harmony with Dean’s excited laughter. They don’t make it very far before Cas stops dead in his tracks and pulls Dean back on his hand. He walks up into Dean’s personal spaces and kisses him, grinding up against him. 

 

They pull apart eventually, hands interlaced as they jog-walk-run — and maybe chase each other a little — through the cold but thankfully mostly empty hallways. A few people send them curious looks, but that only makes them more giddy, giggling and squeezing each others’ hands a little tighter, speeding up their pace.

 

They find themselves pressing each other up against every other wall for just one more kiss anyway, not really caring about who might walk past, until they finally stumble into Cas’ room and throw the door closed behind them.

 

Dean laughs, walks Cas back against the closed door and kisses him, deep and hard. He reaches around him and twists the lock on the door, looks up at Cas to check that this is okay. Cas smiles and then leans down a little to nuzzle against the stubble on Dean’s cheek.

 

“C’mon, alpha, take me to bed,” Dean murmurs, and Cas reacts immediately. His hands wrap around Dean’s thighs, and then Dean’s being picked up and carefully carried over towards Cas’ bed.


	10. Breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaah we're nearing the end!!! The next chapter will be 4k but... this hurts a little, anyway :(

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ neck just a little tighter, and throws his head back in laughter, giddy and excited like a teenager. 

 

God, he’s already growing slick, underwear starting to stick to where he’s needy and more than ready for Cas. His omega is whining a little at this ridiculously  _ alpha  _ display of strength, especially when Cas doesn’t falter at all when Dean starts to squirm in his arms, tries to grind down against him to create some friction.

 

Cas does start growling a little, though, and walks faster, until they reach the bed and he lets Dean slide down to his feet.

 

Dean isn’t sure why, but Cas looks a little sheepish then, red blush spreading up to his ears as his hands slip up from Dean’s thighs to his waist. “Um,” he mumbles, and sends a jerky little nod towards his bed behind Dean. “I forgot about this.”

 

“Wha—” Dean starts, but his question gets stuck somewhere in his throat when he turns around and finds the bed, looking not quite how he remembers it. 

 

It’s unmade, pillows and blankets shoved to the edges, clothes and towels stuffed in between, leaving a big, cozy space in the middle. It’s a nest.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathes, stepping closer to the the bed, trailing his hand over the shirt that’s spread over a fluffy white pillow, the shirt he left in Cas’ laundry basket after his shower yesterday morning. “You made a nest. For us?”

 

“I can clean up, I’ll just need a minute,” Cas says from somewhere behind him. And he sounds so quiet and unsure that Dean can’t do anything but whip around and crash into him in a hug. 

 

“I love it,” he mumbles against Cas’ chest. “I love it. You made this, even though you thought… through everything that happened yesterday?”

 

“I couldn’t really help it. All my alpha realized was, um — that you were hurt. Didn’t really matter that it was my fault… so I had to build you a safe space.”

 

“Thank you, alpha,” Dean smiles, soft and overwhelmed, and then he pulls Cas back with him, until they tumble down into their nest in each other’s arms.

 

Cas lands on his back, sprawled out with Dean on top of him. He doesn’t touch at first, just watches. It feels like he’s giving Dean space to decide where to take this, to take over control, and Dean’s heart swells in his chest with how much he adores him. 

 

Cas is looking up with a dazed little expression, nose twitching slightly when he must be trying to scent Dean from all the way down there. So, what else could Dean do but pull his shirt over his head and dive down to allow Cas better access, let him come all close and personal?

 

He bares his neck for Cas, lets him press into it, lets him breathe and taste and nibble a little — but when Cas bites down teasingly, Dean can’t hold his breath any longer. It rushes out in a delighted sigh, and he pulls back up to look at Cas.

 

Face flushed red, pink lips slightly open, pupils blown black, he looks so gorgeous that Dean can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but dive right back down to kiss him.

 

It’s a struggle, getting out of their clothes between kisses and murmured declarations of happiness and want and adoration. But they make it happen, eventually, and Dean has Cas in all of his naked glory beneath him for the second time in two days.

 

It’s as amazing as it was the first time, that moment when he sinks back down onto Cas, and they are truly touching, everywhere they possibly can. 

 

Cas is hard as a rock against Dean, who is right there with him, rubbing down against him in desperate little grinds and huffed out breaths. 

 

“Dean,” Cas rumbles, rough and needy. His hands are wandering down Dean’s shoulders, his back, until they land almost where Dean wants them. Cas’ hands grip his ass, pull him down a little harder, speed his rhythm up a little more. “You smell so good,” he gasps, back to pressing his face into Dean’s neck.

 

“You too, baby.” He slows his grinds a little and strokes the back of his palm over the side of Cas face. “Cas,” he tries, but the desperate way Cas is holding onto him has him breathless, and his brain a little mushy. “Cas, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

 

It’s true, he’s feeling like he’s overflowing with need. There’s this pull in his groin, one that almost feels a little like when he’s in heat, a pull that has him leaking slick, his cock pulsing against Cas’. 

 

“That’s alright,” Cas whispers, hands still reverently roaming over Dean’s ass. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

He turns his face until he catches Dean’s lips and captures them in a slow, hot kiss, as he lets his fingers wander down, so goddamn slow, closer towards Dean’s hole. 

 

“Fuck, Cas, come on,” he whines against Cas’ lips, grinding down into his broad, warm hands. “Please.”

 

“We should switch places, maybe,” Cas says, and he sounds lost in thought. 

 

Dean snorts a little, rolls off of Cas. He gets up on his hands and knees, ass up high in the air, and turns his head to Cas to send him a teasing smile. “Come and get it, alpha.” It feels unreal, how he’s already shivering and shaking for Cas, and he isn’t even really touching him yet.

 

Dean keens, pushes his ass up even higher for Cas, and he realizes, in that moment, that this is the first time he has ever felt like this while presenting for someone. That he will never feel like this with anyone else. That he doesn’t want to, either.

 

Cas is up and behind Dean in seconds, whining low in his throat. His fingers brush over Dean’s calves, up his thighs and the curve of his butt. But then he grips Dean’s waist and pushes him to the side, back down so he lies on his back. 

 

Dean grunts in bewilderment, but when he looks up at Cas, he finds him looking determined. “Not like that,” he whispers urgently, and ducks down to press kisses to Dean’s nose, his cheeks, his collarbone. “I need to see you.” He smiles, wide and pleased, at Dean’s breath of  _ yeah, yes, please _ , and moves down further to give Dean’s nipples some attention.

 

Small kisses first, then licks, and when he bites down, Dean arches off the bed with an embarrassing whimper. Cas grins down at him once more, beautiful and cocky and sure of himself, and kisses his way down to Dean’s dick. 

 

He noses against Dean’s hardness, teasing and taking his time, and Dean’s legs fall apart even further to make more space for his alpha. “Cas,” he breathes, hands wandering down to brush Cas’ hair out of his face. “Cas, plea—” He’s interrupted mid-sentence, when Cas takes his tip between his soft lips and sucks him into his wet, hot mouth — and Dean dissolves into a moaning mess. 

 

There’s no other word for it — Cas worships him with his mouth while he slowly, so slowly, lets his fingers brush down over Dean’s balls, down deeper, trailing slow patterns over Dean’s slick-wet skin. 

 

When they find his hole, Dean wants to cry in happiness. Cas is careful as he circles it, takes ages before he finally pushes inside for the first time — and Dean breaks. 

 

“Yes, yes, c’mon Cas, need it, more,” he babbles, twisting and pushing down onto Cas’ digit as best as he can. Cas gives in, finally, and pushes another finger inside of Dean, and when he feels how ready Dean’s body is, he carefully adds another one.

 

His mouth is still busy sucking and licking all around Dean’s dick, and when his fingers brush Dean’s prostate once, twice, Dean has to pull him off by his hair. 

 

“Stop, stop.” It’s punched out, and he can’t really concentrate on anything but trying to stave off his orgasm. Cas pulls off immediately, and when Dean doesn’t answer his question of what’s wrong, he carefully pulls his fingers back out, too. 

 

“Dean?” he tries again, scooting back between Dean’s legs. “Dean, what did I do wrong?” 

 

Dean’s been too gone in his pleasure, but the panic in Cas’ voice rips him back out of the soothing waves of bliss. He forces himself to open his eyes and look, and Cas is the picture of absolute panic, misery.

 

He’s on his knees, arms raised in front of him, a barrier between them, hard cock still insistently pressing up against his stomach. But he’s shaking, and his eyes are wide open in terror. “Dean,” he says again, voice breaking.

 

“Cas, no,” Dean mumbles, and heaves himself up into a sitting position. “Oh no, no Cas, don’t worry. No, that was so good.” He leans forward, into Cas’ space, and takes his hands into his own. It’s a little gross, Cas’ fingers cold and wet with Dean’s slick, but Cas squeezes back immediately. “Cas, I had to stop you because I’d have come right then and there, otherwise. All of this would have been over, and I couldn’t have that happen.”

 

Cas looks a little less scared with every word, and by the end of it, he’s swaying forward into Dean’s space again. 

 

“Cas,” Dean breathes, hands moving up to frame Cas’ cheeks. “Cas, kiss me.”

 

Cas doesn’t hesitate this time, seems to need this just as desperately as Dean does. He leans the rest of the way in, presses their lips together careful and soft. He sighs into it, and he sounds like a weight as heavy as a rock has dropped off his chest.

 

Dean loops his arms back around Cas’ shoulders, and carefully pulls him back down on top of him, their lips never separating. 

 

They stay like that, holding onto each other and kissing, slow and gentle, for ages. Until the way their groins are pressing together gets a little too distracting again, until soft kisses turn into deep ones, wandering hands and brushing fingers turn into desperate grips, pulling into hard grinds.

 

Until the anxious tension finally leaves Cas’ shoulders, and he sinks down into Dean’s embrace, rolling his hips and panting against Dean’s lips. His hands wander over Dean’s thighs, push them up and around his waist, and when he ruts up against Dean the next time, his cock slips along the cleft of Dean’s ass and up over his balls, against his dick, wet and hot, and Dean arches up and cries out.

 

It feels so good, but it’s not nearly enough. Dean aches for it, for the real thing — so he tells Cas.

 

“More, Cas,” he pants against Cas cheek, eyes screwed shut in dizzying pleasure. “More, I need more. You.  _ Please _ .”

 

Cas starts again with two fingers, way too careful as he eases them into Dean. He starts moving as he noses his way down Dean’s neck, presses an open-mouthed kiss to his scent spot. 

 

Dean can’t help the pathetic whine that claws its way out of his throat, the way his hands fly up and grip Cas’ upper arms, the way his legs start to tremble around Cas. Cas adds another finger, then, and Dean wants to scream. His body has never been this ready, has never  _ wanted _ , just like this.

 

Cas, though, is quietly losing it above Dean, too. His eyes are glassy, faintly glowing red, his mouth slack, his breathing hard.

 

“Cas, ready,” Dean breathes. “I’m ready, c’mon, please.”

 

“Okay, yeah. Yes,” Cas murmurs, dazed and far away, and then he reaches down and guides his cock, hard and red and leaking precome, down to Dean’s hole. 

 

The first touch, just Cas’ tip rubbing against Dean’s hole, has Dean’s breath rushing out of him.

 

Cas finally, oh so carefully, pushes all the way inside, until he’s buried to the hilt. His body freezes, then, and he’s quietly whining when he rests his head against Dean’s sternum. 

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and presses his nose into Dean’s skin. “Yeah, I’m good, just need a second.”

 

He lets Cas take his time as he breathes deep and nuzzles into Dean, dick hard and pulsing inside of him. He’s filling Dean up so perfectly, like they are both made for this.

 

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real. And that you’re with me,” Car murmurs. “That you want to share this with me.” He presses his lips to Dean’s collarbone, his shoulder, his jaw. When he pulls away to look at Dean, his eyes are wet and his cheeks rosy.

 

Dean pulls him down again, skin-to-skin, and murmurs: “Me neither. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

 

Cas laughs against his cheek, rough and emotional, and turns to capture Dean’s lips with his own. 

 

Dean breaks the kiss eventually, to give Cas the go ahead. “Please, Cas, move,” he sighs, the heavy weight of Cas inside him too much and not enough all at the same time.

 

Cas does, thank goodness, starting with a slow, careful grind. “Good?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, alpha,” Dean keens, lets his hands scratch down Cas’ back until he has a hold on his ass, can pull him in harder, deeper. “Cas.”

 

“My omega,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s whole body breaks down in shivers and soft little whines. “My love.”

 

He keens again, tangles his fingers in Cas’ hair and pulls him into a hot kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against spit-slick lips. “I love you, Cas.”

 

Dean’s mind is swimming, nothing feels important but the weight of Cas on top of him, the slow, hot movement of his cock inside him, the way he holds onto Dean, kisses him.

 

He starts to gain momentum, to move faster, but it’s only when Dean whines for  _ more, harder _ , that he gives up the careful thrusts and lets his alpha take over. Cas starts going faster, harder, slamming into Dean in a pace that has him gasping for breath and scrambling for purchase, fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders a little too hard.

 

Cas is panting too, his breaths erratic as he grinds down into Dean. It’s not long before Dean feels the the swelling of Cas’ knot, hard and huge between them, and he suddenly feels overpowered by emptiness, by a desperate need to have all of Cas,  _ right now _ .

 

“Please,” Dean whines when Cas’ knot pushes against his rim again and again, a cruel taste of what might come so soon. “Please, Cas, please. Knot me.”

 

Cas growls, low and a little lost, and his hands fist in the sheets beside Dean’s arms. And then he pushes all the way in, until his knot slips past Dean’s rim and fills him up entirely. 

 

It’s not like anything Dean ever felt, not like anything he could have imagined, and it feels so good.  _ So right. _ Like everything he ever needed.

 

Cas whines low in his throat, and keeps grinding, his knot a delirious stretch. And when he pulls back a little harder, knot tugging on Dean’s rim, Dean keens, shouts Cas’ name — and comes, hard and dizzying, all over his stomach and chest.

 

His vision is blurry, white spots dancing somewhere behind his eyes, and all he can do is hold onto Cas. 

 

But then Cas thrusts into him again, and he howls low and desperate, and suddenly everything is clear again. Cas’ knot swells fully, locks them together, and Cas bites down on Dean’s shoulder when he finally comes. Dean cries out at the sting of the almost-mark; a little too low, not quite where it should be, but so good.

 

And then he realizes that he can feel Cas’ cock twitching and pulsing inside of him, filling him up, and it’s  _ so  _ hot. He can’t help but push down against Cas, squeeze and massage around his knot until he gasps against his shoulder and begs Dean to stop.

 

He slumps down on Dean entirely, a perfect line of heat against him, and with Cas’ hot breath against the side of Dean’s neck, he feels like he’s finally come  _ home _ .

 

“Sorry,” Cas whispers once his breathing has calmed down enough, and he presses a soft kiss to the mark he left. “I hope that was alright? Sorry.”

 

“Cas,” Dean laughs, breathless with all-consuming happiness. “I’m not sure you even remember, but you left a mark on my thigh last time. I kept staring at it all day.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes, and a gentle smile spreads over his face. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean grins, and squeezes a little around his knot. “I think you might have some marks on your back, too.”

 

Cas groans happily, drops his head back down into the crook of Dean’s neck and breathes in deep. “Fuck,” he murmurs, raspy and delighted. “You smell like me.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, and turns to Cas’ neck to scent him, too. He smells incredible, lingering traces of arousal mixed with his woodsy, honey scent, and strong tones of Dean, of violets and spring — and Dean wants to wrap up in it and live in their combined scent forever. 

 

He knows that their scents mixed a little over the past few days, but now — now they bonded. It’s not what he so desperately wants, not yet an actual mating — but the closest they will get to it for now.

 

Cas finally seems to have mustered enough energy to carefully move off of Dean and roll them to their sides. 

 

It takes a while for Cas’ knot to go down. Still wrapped up in each other, still bound together, Dean can’t help but think about what they did. About the future. 

 

What will happen between them? Will they stay here? Live in the castle? Will they ever actually get to mate? Would Cas truly wear Dean’s mark?

 

“What now?” Dean murmurs into Cas’ shoulder.

 

“What do you mean?” Cas asks back, and lets his fingers card through Dean’s hair.

 

“I just… have you ever thought about the future?”

 

“Too much, I would say,” Cas says, and hugs Dean closer to his chest.

 

“Any certain plans?” He can feel his heart beating in his chest, a little too fast, and he’s pretty sure Cas can feel it, too.

 

“You.”

 

Dean’s eyes burn a little with tears, and he snuggles impossibly closer. “Okay,” he breathes. “Alright. Me too.”

 

When Cas’ knot has gone down enough, he pulls out, careful and slow — but Dean can’t help but wince at the feeling anyway. It’s even worse when Cas’ come leaks out of him afterwards, wet and cold, but Cas presses a kiss to his hip and gets up to climb out of their nest. 

 

He jogs towards the bathroom, and Dean has to snort at his dorky eagerness to return back into Dean’s arms — even though he feels the same desperate need to touch Cas, to feel him close, to not be left.

 

Cas stumbles back towards the bed with a wet washcloth and a glass of water. He makes Dean drink first, then moves down between his thighs to carefully wipe Dean clean with the warm cloth, clean him up as best as he can without ushering him out of bed and into the shower.

 

As soon as he’s done, he sinks back down against Dean’s side and peppers him with more soft kisses.

 

When Dean feels his mind drifting back and forth on the edge of falling asleep, wrapped up in Cas’ arms and legs, he hears him whisper. “I want to tell my father soon.”


	11. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to, again, say a HUGE THANK YOU to [adaille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaille/pseuds/adaille): you made me finish this story. Thank you. Ily.
> 
> Anther huge thank you to [faerielights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_lights/pseuds/faerie_lights). I LOVE YOU. THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL SO MUCH BETTER ABOUT ALL OF THIS.
> 
> I truly hope this chapter will be a satisfying ending to this story, and you guys enjoy it!! <3

“I want to tell my father soon.”

 

The heavy tiredness falls from Dean in seconds, and he moves back a little to look up into Cas’ eyes. “What?”

 

“I want to tell my father about us. I want to tell him that we want to mate, if that’s alright with you?”

 

“I mean — um, sure. Yes! But… how do you think he’ll react?” Dean asks, quiet in the dim lighting of the room. He looks down to where Cas’ fingers are drawing circles on his hip and side. “His son and a dirty concubine…” 

 

“Dean,” Cas says, sharp and angry. “Stop talking about yourself like that — like you’re not everything I could ever want. Everything I could ever need.”

 

“Cas,” Dean says, and looks up to catch Cas’ eyes. “I’m serious. I can’t imagine your father allowing a mating.”

 

“He won’t have to allow anything. I’ll let him know that my true mate and I will take the last step and mate. He can’t do anything to change this, Dean, you don’t have to worry,” he says, his hands moving higher to tangle into Dean’s hair. “I love you.“

 

Deans breath hitches a little, and he hides his face in Cas shoulder when he says: “I love you, too. So much. And I can’t wait.“

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


They decide not to rush into anything more, to get the king’s approval before taking the next steps — and it’s the best thing to do, the most logical one. But at the same time, it’s the worst thing they could do.

 

Having to go back to spending most of their time together in their room, reading and talking and only kissing a little. Having to go back to sleeping in the room Dean shares with Charlie and Anna, instead of falling asleep wrapped around Cas. It’s just hard. 

 

He’s spent so much time with Cas, glued to his side, over the past handful of days — spending time apart physically hurts his chest. But the fact that Cas is waiting around their room, ready to tackle Dean in a hug and bury his nose in his neck as soon as he walks in, the fact that he mumbles about how much he’s missed him all day — it makes Dean feel impossibly better about all this.

 

And the thought of getting the king’s approval, of being  _ officially allowed  _ to mate Cas, it’s more important than anything else, anyway.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


The time spent together over the next week, with both of them holding back and not touching beyond gentle reassuring pats and strokes and brushes, it’s both awful and perfect. They are both desperate for each other now that they know how they feel, taste, sound — but they can’t risk it. Not until Cas has talked to his parents. 

 

So they hang out in their room, lounging on the bed, way too close but not close enough. And they talk, about everything that flies through their minds. 

 

But mostly, they share wishes for their future. They talk about moving out of the castle and into their own small, cozy place. About not being watched, being judged. About living without having to mind their roles — not as prince and concubine, but as Cas and Dean. Dean and Cas, mates, husbands, partners. Equals.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


Dean’s been sleeping lightly the past few days, waking up several times a night — ever since they decided he should share a room with Charlie and Anna again, actually. 

 

This time, he wakes up to the familiar creak of the door to their room opening. When he finds the room still pitch-dark all around him, he needs a few seconds to orientate enough to sit up and turn towards the door.

 

It takes even longer for him to realize who the smell belongs to that starts to fill up the room as someone stumbles into it and swears under their breath — it’s Cas. It’s Cas, and he smells frightened.

 

“Cas?” he mumbles, and gets a sharp breath in return.

 

“Oh thank god,” Cas whispers, moving closer towards Dean’s bed until, from the sounds of it, he bumps against the bedframe with his shin. “Shit.”

 

“Cas? Everything alright?” 

 

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Cas, what’s going on?” Dean asks, heart hammering in his chest with fear, filling the quiet room with it’s erratic thumps. He slips out of bed, hands reaching blindly to find Cas. When they do, he lets them wander up his chest, to hold his face between his palms.

 

“I — I’m good. Just,” his voices breaks, and he swallows audibly. “I think we need to leave. Right now.”

 

“L—Leave? What are you talking about?” It’s a harsh whisper, because he just now realizes that both Charlie and Anna are in here with them.

 

“Dean, do you trust me?”

 

“Of course, Cas,” Dean says, and leans in to blindly press a kiss to Cas’ face. He misses a little and hits Cas’ nose, but it doesn’t really seem to matter. “Please calm down first, alpha.”

 

“I don’t think we have time for that, we should get going as soon as possible.”

 

“Going where?”

 

“I’m not entirely sure, yet, but out of here. Out of my father’s reach, Michael’s reach,” he sounds overwhelmed, devastated, unsure.

 

“Cas,” Dean mumbles, finally realizing what must be happening. “Cas, did you tell them about us?”

 

“I tried… last night. But my father — I was hoping he’d not make a big deal out of it, with me being only his fifth child. I don’t understand, I won’t ever take over his position, we don’t  _ need  _ the money an arranged marriage might bring. I didn’t think…” he whispers, hands coming up to hold Dean’s hands where they frame his face. “I have a friend, Balthazar, who’d help us get out of here. He has a cabin somewhere in the woods a state over, we could get out of here tonight and meet him tomorrow. He’d keep quiet.”

 

“You’d have to leave your family,” Dean murmurs. “You’d have to leave everything.” 

 

“Yes.” Cas says, and this time he sounds determined. “I’d do it in the blink of an eye. As long as you join me?”

 

“What would they do if we decide to stay anyway?”

 

“I don’t think they’d let you stay here with me,” Cas whispers, and he sounds so broken that something deep down in Dean’s chest snaps. 

 

“They’d send me away?“

 

“Father talked about that — about either locking you up, or—“ he breaks off, clears his throat, his fingers clenching where they rest on Dean’s hip. “Or sending you off to serve someone else.“ 

 

Dean’s stomach churns, and he’s not sure what part of this statement makes him more nauseous. 

 

“Dean, I truly think we need to leave tonight. I can’t stay and wait to see what they’d do to you.”

 

“Or you,” Dean murmurs. “They’d find you a noble omega, arrange a mating.”

 

Cas growls, pushes closer. “I wouldn’t.”

 

“You’d have to.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“You’re right, we have to leave. As long as you’re sure?”

 

“As long as you join me.”

 

“What will we take with us? You can’t leave all your things,” Dean whispers, frantic and a little overwhelmed. 

 

He’s in his pajamas, needs to go looking for his clothes in the dark. It’s a good thing he doesn’t own much, he could just leave it all here. But Cas can’t, Cas needs —

 

“I packed a bag already. Money, a few clothes for both of us. We won’t need much for the journey, I hope — and Balthazar will help us get what we need once we’re in the cabin.”

 

“Good, okay,” Dean breathes, and the determination in Cas’ voice makes him feel a little safer. 

 

There’s the rustling sound of sheets behind them, and they both hold their breath for a few painful seconds.

 

“Dean?” someone murmurs, and his heart stops beating in his chest. Charlie. He hadn’t even thought about Charlie. 

 

“Shhh, Charlie, everything’s fine,” he whispers frantically. 

 

“Dean, what’s going on?” She sounds half asleep, more than confused, and way too loud. “Is that —”

 

“Shh! Please, Charlie. We can’t wake Anna.” Desperate; his voice, his scent, all of him.

 

“Okay, okay, sorry. Relax,” she whispers. “So, what’s going on?”

 

“I — it’s —”

 

Cas interrupts, thankfully. “Hello Charlie. Would you step outside with us for a minute?”

 

“Cas — Prince Castiel? What are you doing in here?”

 

“Please, Charlie,” Dean begs, and feels like crying when he eventually hears her quiet  _ damn, alright _ .

 

It’s awkward, feeling their way out of the room together, but they finally step out into the candle-lit hallway and carefully close the heavy wooden door behind them, and Dean immediately feels a lot lighter.

 

Charlie rubs her eyes, and blinks hard against the light. “So, what’s happening?”

 

“We need to leave tonight, Charlie.” 

 

“Leave? Where’ll you go?”

 

“Away from here,” Cas says, just as Dean blurts: “Will you go with us?”

 

Cas looks at him with wide eyes, and smells confused, a little irritated. “Dean.”

 

“Cas, can they come with us?”

 

“They?” he asks, just as Charlie mumbles “We?”.

 

“You and Jo.” Dean can’t believe he hasn’t considered this earlier, hadn’t even thought about taking Charlie with them when they were still spinning dreams about a future allowed by the king. Charlie, who’s been suffering so much more than he has, so much longer than him. 

 

“You — Dean, we can’t just leave.”

 

“Why not? If there’s a time, it’s now! The turmoil Cas’ departure will cause is the perfect thing to cover your leaving. Nobody will think about you and Jo. You could leave, be with each other. Build a life.”

 

Charlie’s still mostly confused, but Cas is looking at Dean with a soft look as he reaches over to squeeze his hand. “I agree, Charlie,” he says. “You should get Jo and come with us. I have friends that will be able to take you in.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asks, and Dean only rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes. If you want this?”

 

“If I  _ want  _ this? Are you kidding me?” she snorts.

 

“Well, then — move! Go grab Jo, but be quiet, please?”

 

“Oh. Oh god, of course! Yes,” she mumbles, frantic and happy. 

 

“Meet us behind the stables?” Cas suggests, and she nods and speeds off down the hallway. 

 

Dean grins, his heart swelling in his chest. “Thank you, Cas,” he breathes, and turns to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

 

“She deserves this. All of them do… if only I could free them all,” he whispers, and Dean’s chest hurts at the pain in Cas’ voice.

 

“I wish you could, too,” Dean murmurs, and leaves another gentle kiss on Cas’ lips. “I’m sorry.”

 

Cas takes a deep breath, lets it rush back out, and tugs on Dean’s hand. “Let’s go,” he says, and takes the leather bag leaning against the wall next to the door. “We need to go, before someone comes by.”

 

There are shoes and a coat next to the bag, and Cas grabs them, too, before he takes Dean’s hand back in his own and pulls him with him. They make their way through narrow hallways Dean has never been in before, thankfully without meeting anyone, until they reach a heavy wooden door. 

 

Cas stops them one last time, and beckons Dean to put on his shoes and the heavy coat. 

 

One last kiss, and they push open the door and walk out into the early morning.

 

It’s only when they reach the stables and walk up to two prepared horses that Dean realizes Cas must have had help with all this. “Who did this for us?”

 

“Gabriel. He’s known for his… trips, in the middle of the night, so nobody suspected anything when he let the stable boys prepare two horses last night.”

 

Dean stops dead in his tracks, and pulls Cas back by his hand. “Cas,” he whispers. “Cas, what about your siblings? What about Samandriel?”

 

“I left them letters,” Cas says, a sad little smile on his face. “To let them know I love them — but that I’m doing this out of love, too. That what we’re about to do is the only thing I want for us.”

 

“Cas,” Dean says again. “Are you sure? For me?”

 

“Yes,” Cas says, and this time his smile turns happier, more honest. “I can’t wait. We’ll get to be ourselves, we’ll get to live how we want to live... we’ll get to mate.”

 

Dean hides his grin in the top of his jacket. “Yeah, I can’t wait either,” he says, and hugs Cas close. “Gonna look so gorgeous with my mark on your neck.”

 

Cas hums, wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and buries his nose in Dean’s neck. “Stop that, Dean, I don’t need this imagine in my mind right now.”

 

Dean chuckles, quiet and private and just for Cas, and eventually pulls back to take the last few steps towards their horses. 

 

“We’ll have to share, huh?” Dean asks, as he pats one of the horse’s flanks.

 

“We will. Do you know how to ride?”

 

Dean blushes, hesitates. “A little?”

 

Cas looks up at him and smiles, soft and wide. “I will teach you soon,” he says, and he sounds so excited that Dean can’t help but rush forward and kiss him again.

 

“You’ll have to ride with me, for now,“ Cas says.

 

“Oh, how awful,” Dean laughs. “Spending hours with my arms wrapped around you — how will I survive.”

 

“I ask myself the very same question,” someone giggles, and then Charlie steps out of the shadows, Jo’s hand in hers. 

 

Jo steps forward, too, and rolls her eyes as she leans into Charlie’s side. “Charlie,” she warns, tone teasing.

 

“So I can assume you know how to ride, Jo?” Cas asks, suppressing a smile.

 

“Yeah,” she answers, already turning towards their horses. “Well, are you guys ready? It’s a miracle neither of us have been caught so far.”

 

“Yeah,” Cas agrees. “We should get going. I’d guide the way, if that’s alright with you? We’re lucky it’s a clear night, the moon will spend enough light. We should meet Balthazar at dawn.”

 

“Let’s go, then,” Dean says, nudging Cas towards the horses with a smile.

  
  


~~oOo~~

  
  


They ride for almost three hours, until the the sun starts its slow rise and paints the sky pink and red and orange. 

 

Balthazar is a strange guy, boisterous and over-confident. But he seems to genuinely care about Cas, the way he’s somehow managing to still look worried, even while there’s a big smug grin on his face — the way he asks if they’re alright several times during the first few minutes of conversation.

 

He’s on his own horse, and leads the rest of the way until they stop in front a forest. 

Trees are stretching high into the sky, dimming the morning sunlight, and Dean shivers a little against Cas.

 

“We’ve crossed the border an hour ago,” Cas murmurs, head turned back towards Dean. “We’re out.”

 

A giddy laugh bursts from Dean’s lips, then, and he presses forward to place kisses on Cas’ back, his neck, wherever he can reach as he hugs him close. “We did it.”

 

“We did it,” Cas repeats, soft and happy.

 

“I suggest we part ways here,” Balthazar interrupts their quiet moment. “Jo and Charlie can come with me. I have friends in town who need help on their farm, and have a spare room to offer in turn. Friends who don’t care about who you are or where you come from.”

 

Dean turns to look, and Charlie is beaming, pressing her face into the crook of Jo’s neck. 

 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, again and again. “And thank you, Cas. Thank you, Dean.”

 

Watching her, watching all her sorrows fall from her shoulders, Dean suddenly realizes that they are truly free. 

 

“Charlie?” he asks, a broad smile spreading over his face as he waits until she looks up at him. “Charlie, I love you. Thank  _ you _ . For everything. Will you come visit us?”

 

“Yes,” Jo and Charlie reply in sync, twin smiles on their faces. “Definitely.”

 

Balthazar watches them with a smile and a soft look on his face. “You boys just need to follow the trail through the woods, until you reach a wooden cabin,” he says, and chucks a key towards them a moment later.

 

Cas catches it with ease, and slips it into his pocket in a fluid motion. “Balthazar…” he starts, husky with emotion.

 

“No need for a teary thank you! I’ll come visit you, too — check if you truly use this new life I helped you get. You have clothes and food for a few days, and a small stable for the horse. I’ll come by at the end of this week, take you to town and show you the markets.”

 

“Thank you, Balthazar.” It’s Dean, this time, and there’s a watery, happy edge to his voice. “Thank you for doing this. You—” His voice breaks, and he shuffles even closer against Cas’ back. “You saved us.”

 

Balthazar just sends him a smile, a lot less cocky and unbelievably gentle. “Make the best of it.”

 

They part ways, then, and Cas steers their horse into the woods.

 

It takes a while of carefully navigating through bushes and trees and mud, but they eventually reach the end of the trail.

 

There’s a small, lovely cabin waiting for them. Dark wood, light-blue curtains blocking the view through the windows, a small front porch with two chairs and a small table between them. 

 

It’s inviting, looks cozy and warm, and Dean squeezes his arms around Cas and feels like he’s finally, actually home. 

 

Cas slides off the horse and helps Dean off before he turns and leads it into the barn next to the cabin, while Dean just keeps staring at their cabin in awe.

 

“There was even hay and water for the horse,” Cas mumbles as he walks out. “He thought of everything.”

 

“I don’t know how you know him, but he feels heaven-sent,” Dean murmurs, and then he takes Cas’ hand in his and pulls him closer with a smile. “C’mon, alpha, show me our new home.”

 

Cas grins and pulls Dean in for a kiss, before he grabs his hand and guides him up the front steps and towards the door. He fiddles with the keys a little, and when he finally has the door unlocked, he puts them away and turns back to Dean.

 

With a cheeky grin, he reaches out and scoops Dean up in his arms.

 

“Cas,” he squeaks.

 

But Cas just smiles, tightens his arms around him, pushes the door open with his foot, and carries Dean into the cabin in bridal style.

 

Dean can’t help it — when Cas grunts in exhaustion while he kicks the door shut behind them and starts shuffling through the room, Dean bursts into laughter. 

 

Cas makes it as far as to the narrow double bed in the corner of the room, Dean wriggling in his arms, before he joins in and laughs as he drops Dean to the bed and falls on top of him. 

 

Their lips meet before either or them can calm down, chuckling into each other’s mouths until giddy laughter turns into breathless little gasps.

 

“Dean,” Cas whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s lips.

 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes back, hands snaking up and over Cas’ shoulders. He bucks up against him, feels Cas’ hardness, whines low in his throat.

 

“Are you —” he breaks off when Dean grabs his hips and pulls him down, makes him grind against Dean’s soft thigh. “Aren’t you tired? The journey was long, I woke you up in the middle of the night.”

 

“Not really, Cas,” Dean laughs, and captures Cas’ lips between his own once again. “I want you.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Cas breathes, and starts pulling on Dean’s coat. 

 

They don’t bother taking it slow as they stumble out of their clothes and back into each other’s arms. They are both desperate; to just be with each other; alone, uninterrupted, without the possibility of being taken from each other.

 

As soon as they are naked, and the door is locked, Cas is back on top of Dean, kissing him hot and heavy. Dean can feel his heart beating a song against his chest, and his stomach joins in not long after. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Cas says, and mouths his way down to Dean’s neck. 

 

He’s spent quite some time doing that in the privacy of their room over the past few days, if in a much tamer way, but neither of them seems to ever get enough of Cas’ lips on the delicate skin of Dean’s throat. 

 

It’s different, this time. When Cas’ teeth graze over Dean’s skin, nibble and bite a little, it’s suddenly not a distant thing anymore. This time, it’s not a foggy dream of what might happen in a few days, weeks, years, or maybe never. It’s a promise for what’s to come so very soon.

 

Dean arches up against Cas again, trying and failing to get some kind of friction. “Please,” he breathes.

 

Cas is surprisingly quick to comply, moves down lower, his lips never leaving Dean’s skin, until he eventually finally reaches his goal. He noses at Dean’s hard, flushed cock, teases it with one gentle lick, and moves down even lower.

 

With a move of quick strength that has Dean leaking a ridiculous amount of slick, he spreads Dean’s thighs and raises his lower body into the air until he has access to his hole.

 

The first brush of his tongue has Dean as weak as it had the first time, as it always will. He sighs happily, and just lets Cas take. 

 

He licks through Dean’s slick, gently opens him up with his tongue until he’s satisfied, only to add a finger to start stretching not long after — and Dean is so goddamn thankful for it. He feels his need like a hurricane, pushing and pulling and wreaking havoc in his groin.

 

As soon as Cas deems Dean open enough, and only after three  _ c’mon Cas, please _ ’s, he carefully pulls his fingers from Dean and moves back up over him. 

 

He kisses him, like it was as hard for him to spend these past minutes away from Dean’s mouth as it was for Dean, hot and hard and messy. The taste of his own slick on Cas’ lips makes Dean sink into the bed like liquid.

 

Cas kisses him again, as he braces himself on one arm and lets the other one trace down Dean’s body. He doesn’t spend much time on Dean’s nipples, teases the tiniest bit before moving his hand lower and gripping his own cock.

 

It’s hard and leaking and as red as Dean’s own, and then he guides it between Dean’s spread legs, his cheeks, until he finally rubs up against Dean’s hole and teases him in tiny little circles. 

 

Dean shivers, shakes, and his head lolls on the pillow as he whines, desperate and breathless — but then Cas gives in, pushes into his slick, hot hole, and whines right along with him.

 

He will never get over this, either, the way Cas stretches him so good, feels like he’s made for him. The way Cas seems to break a little every time they do this, too. 

 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s even raising his arms, but then his fingers bury in Cas’ ass cheeks and he pulls him all the way in with a low moan.

 

They only just started, but he feels ready to burst already. It’s the same for Cas, judging from the breathless groans he hides in Dean’s skin, the way his hand is shaking where it trails back up Dean’s body just to come down on the bed next to Dean’s head to better support his weight.

 

He thinks it might be the fact that both of them  _ know _ . Know what’s finally going to happen, know that they can finally stop holding back. Know that they’ll walk out of this with matching marks, matching scents, and matching smiles.

 

“Ready?” Cas murmurs, and it’s strained and raspy and perfect. 

 

“So ready,” Dean answers, and pushes up against Cas. 

 

Cas starts slow, as careful as he always is with Dean, soft slides paired with soft kisses all over Dean’s neck and his face, ones that have goosebumps spreading all over his skin.

 

Cas takes his time, teases and moves way too slow, until Dean is a writhing, begging mess beneath him. Only then does he start to fuck Dean for real, in hard and strong pushes and pulls, gentle lips swapped for harsh, desperate teeth.

 

Dean can feel Cas’ knot swelling, bumping against his rim, and he  _ wants _ . He wants so bad, he sobs for it, grabs Cas and pulls him in harder once again. 

 

Cas chokes on a breath, pants and growls and pushes into Dean faster, harder, until his knot pops past Dean’s rim and fills him up entirely.

 

The moment his knot locks in Dean and Cas starts coming with a pathetic little howl, Dean bares his neck. Cas doesn’t hesitate, ducks down towards him, presses one more open-mouthed kiss to Dean’s lips, and then turns his head to bite down on Dean’s neck, hard and possessive.

 

The first thing Dean notices is pain, a sharp little tug, but then he starts coming himself, without any further coaxing, hard and pulsing and all over himself. His whole body warms up, starts to tingle, and the overwhelming feeling of love in his chest swells impossibly bigger. “Cas,” he gasps, and pulls him down on top of him.

 

Cas eyes are bright alpha red, but he comes down willingly anyway, presses into Dean with all of his body — but his mouth stays at Dean’s neck, soothes the bite with soft little licks, cleans away the blood.

 

Dean gasps when Cas gently bites down again, teasing but careful.

 

The air smells of their mixed scents, heavy and intense and  _ so  _ good — Dean would be content just having Cas wrapped around him and breathing their tangled scents in.

 

But Cas moves all too soon, leans back up and looks down at him with a fond smile. “God, I adore you,” he murmurs, and presses another kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Bite me, my Omega.”

 

Dean’s body spasms a little in its eagerness to move up, to get Dean’s lips on Cas’ throat. He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that, pulls Cas down with a gentle hand on the back of his head, and bites down hard on the soft, beautiful skin of Cas’ neck. 

 

Cas keens, happy and beautifully submissive with how he bares his neck for Dean, and it does things to Dean’s stomach, his heart. He squeezes around Cas’ knot a little while his teeth are still buried deep in Cas’ neck, and Cas collapses back into him with a breathless groan as he comes again, pulsing and spurting inside of Dean.

 

They are a mess, sticky and sweaty and panting against each other, but everyone in a one-mile radius would be able to smell how utterly happy they are.

 

Dean presses kisses to the angry red bite mark on Cas’ neck, licks and mouths and hopes it won’t hurt too much once Cas comes down from his high.

 

But he also has to hold back very, very hard to not fit his teeth right back over the mark and bite down again — because Cas just looks so delicious, flushed red and sated and happy and _he’s wearing Dean’s_ _mark_. The simple thought makes Dean’s dick twitch a little, weak and pitiful.

 

Cas watches him with a grin that must be as dopey as the one stretching over Dean’s face, and tangles his fingers into Dean’s hair to pull him down into a soft, slow kiss.

 

“I love you,” he mumbles against Dean’s lips. “I love you so much.”

 

Dean smiles and takes a deep breath of  _ Cas and Dean,  _ filling every small corner of their little cabin. “And I you, my heart.”

 

He pulls Cas closer to his chest, and the thought that crosses his mind right then makes him feel light and good and incredibly happy. 

 

Their future, their time together, has officially begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GUYS. WE DID IT. WE MADE IT. I'M PRAYING YOU LIKED IT AND ARE HAPPY WITH THIS ENDING AND DON'T HATE ME!!!!!!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around, for encouraging me with your comments and love. You have all my love <33 THANK YOU.
> 
> One last reminder: There is a [rebloggable post](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/post/180462693194/the-most-noble-rating-explicit-word-count-31k) for this story on Tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> I truly, dearly, with all my heart, hope that you guys like this story. I put a lot of work and energy and frustration and love in it and I hope you can see that. Comments would mean the actual world to me.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/), as well as the [rebloggable version](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/post/180462693194/the-most-noble-rating-explicit-word-count-31k) of this story.


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